“Mrs. Rattray thought she heard a tapping in the cellar, sir. She has been very nervous about this man being in the house, and terribly upset at the police coming and the man’s escape. She said she wouldn’t sleep a wink all night. I thought it was her nerves when she said she heard something, so I went down and listened. I told her it was nothing and got her off to bed. But there was somebody there, sir, and he has just been tapping again, very gentle and careful like.”
“We must let him in, of course,” Edmund said, looking at me. I nodded.
“I will go,” he added, “and, Bates, you had better come and bring a light. But keep well behind me. There is no saying what he will be up to this time.”
“I shall go with you, too,” the bishop said.
“Let us all go,” I pleaded, “but we must make no noise. Mrs. Rattray must not hear us.”
“One moment,” said Edmund. He slipped out of the room and returned almost at once with a leather plaited “life preserver” which always accompanied him.
Without another word we crept down to the kitchen. Bates took an oil lamp from the table and lighted us down the cellar steps. As we descended I distinctly heard three gentle taps at the door.
Slowly and almost noiselessly Edmund worked back the bolts, then throwing the door open he stepped quickly backwards, and stood with his left foot forward, the life preserver in his hand poised ready for a blow.
But Jakoub made no rush.
A hoarse weak voice asked, “Are the police gone?”