“Any one up there?” Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in his tone.
“No one,” the doctor reported.
“Has anything been disturbed?”
Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied.
“Yes,” he said, “some one seems to have been rummaging about.”
“Send down the steps quickly,” Mr. Fentolin ordered. “I am beginning to find the atmosphere here unpleasant.”
There was a brief silence. Then they heard the sound of the ladder being dragged across the floor, and a moment or two later it was carefully lowered and placed in position. Mr. Fentolin passed the rope through the front of his carriage and was drawn up. From his bed Mr. Dunster watched them go. It was hard to tell whether he was relieved or disappointed.
“Who has been in here?” Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around the place.
There was no reply. A grey twilight was struggling now through the high, dust-covered windows. Meekins, who had gone on towards the door, suddenly called out:
“Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other side!”