“What do you think of that?” I asked, watching his face as closely as I could in the light of the electric torch.
“Where did you find it?”
I told him. He whistled softly. He held the light up close to the printed words. Black shadows and a small bright circle of light. A strong white hand holding a small white card. As I looked I felt my suspicions revive again.
But directly he spoke I was reassured. “I don’t like it,” he said after a pause. “I don’t like the look of it at all. It means the devil of a disturbance and a fuss, but we must wake the others up and make sure that all of them are safe. This little message can not be ignored. We will leave Annie and cook until the last—come along down-stairs.”
Side by side we made our way down-stairs together, and only just behind us there came the quiet pad, pad, pad, of another pair of feet. I put my hand on the doctor’s arm to stay him and we stood together holding our breath and straining to hear.
Our follower also stopped immediately; he or she must be standing a little way above us on the darkened stairs. The Tundish flashed on his torch and sent its white beam searching up and down. Not a soul was to be seen. All was empty and quiet and still.
To say that I was badly scared would be an understatement. The unhealthy heat of the interminable day—the shock of the morning’s discovery; the ordeal of little Allport’s inquisition; Kenneth’s violent outburst—these and all the other events that had followed one another with such sinister regularity—each in turn had sapped my strength until now I stood a bundle of tortured nerves. I could have turned and fled.
“Well, that beats the band,” The Tundish whispered. “You did hear a step?”
“Yes, I could have sworn to it.”
He sent his light flashing to every corner again, then keeping it alight, we continued our interrupted descent. It came again at once, the gentle following tread of slippered feet. My hair fairly bristled. Then to my astonishment I heard the doctor chuckle.