“There wasn't no one in them,” Dunn answered. “I only wanted to make sure the young lady was telling the truth about there being no servants in the house to sleep.”
“Did you look in all the attics, then?” asked Deede Dawson.
“Yes,” answered Dunn. “'There was one as was locked, but I tooked the liberty of forcing it just to make sure. I ain't done no harm to speak of.”
“You found one locked, eh?” said Deede Dawson, and his smile grew still more pleasant and more friendly. “That must have surprised you a good deal, didn't it?”
“I thought as perhaps there was some one waiting already to give the alarm,” answered Dunn. “I didn't mind the old lady, but I couldn't risk there being some one hiding there, so I had to look, but I ain't done no damage to speak of, I could put it right for you myself in half-an-hour, sir, if you'll let me.”
“Could you, indeed?” said Deede Dawson. “Well, and did you find any one sleeping there?”
But for that hairy disguise upon his cheeks and chin, Dunn would almost certainly have betrayed himself, so dreadful did the question seem to him, so poignant the double meaning that it bore, so clear his memory of his friend he had found there, sleeping indeed.
But there was nothing to show his inner agitation, as he said, shaking his head.
“There wasn't no one there, any more than in the other attics, nothing but an old packing-case.”
“And what?” said Deede Dawson, his voice so soft it was like a caress, his smile so sweet it was a veritable benediction. “What was in that packing-case?”