"Where is this man?" he demanded. Page [152].
Arnold, who followed, was stricken speechless. Fenella gave a little cry. The couch had been wheeled back to its place. The body of the man had disappeared!
"Where is the burglar?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, irritably. "Was there ever any one here? Who in the name of mischief left that window open?"
The window through which Arnold had entered the room was now wide open. They hurried towards it. Outside, all was darkness. There was no sound of footsteps, no sign of any person about. Mr. Weatherley was distinctly annoyed.
"I should have thought you would have had more sense, Chetwode," he said, testily. "You found a burglar here, and, instead of securing him properly, you send up to me and go ringing up for doctors, and in the meantime the man calmly slips off through the window."
Arnold made no reply. Mr. Weatherley's words seemed to come from a long way off. He was looking at Fenella.
"The man was dead!" he muttered.
She, too, was white, but she shook her head.
"We thought so," she answered. "We were wrong."
Mr. Weatherley led the way to the front door.