"Yes," replied my companion. "I could swear to the sound anywhere."
CHAPTER XXII
GONE AWAY
"Don't stir an inch until I give the signal," whispered Forrest in my ear, as soon as he saw I was fully awake. He was perfectly calm, and he closed the door in order to conceal us from the sight of any one entering the workshop.
The car pulled up outside. We heard the grate of the key in the lock, and the door creak on its hinges, as it swung open. There was a second grating noise, and I judged that the door of the inner yard had been opened by whoever had entered. There followed a few more pants from the motor, as it passed through the coach-house into the yard, and then everything was silent. The outer door shutting with a snap apprized us that the crucial moment was at hand, and my heart began to thump as I heard footsteps approaching. Forrest pointed to a vacant hook over my head, and I recognized why he had selected the harness-room for our hiding-place. The footsteps came slowly nearer, then stopped, and a long low laugh came from the lips of the unseen man. I thought we must have been discovered in our hiding-place and glanced at Forrest for instructions. He never moved a muscle. He stood poised like a greyhound about to be slipped from the leash.
The footsteps approached again. The door knob rattled as a hand was laid upon it. The door flew open. Forrest darted forward.
I caught one glimpse of Mannering's face, for it was indeed he, and I saw it become suddenly livid. It was not the pallor of fear. His eyes flashed. He had doffed his coat and was holding it in one hand, and quick as was Forrest's spring, he was equally swift to meet it. His other hand passed swift as lightning from the door handle, and catching the edge of the coat, spread the garment in front of him. Forrest, missing his grip, plunged heavily into the wide folds of the garment. Mannering's arms closed as a vice. The door swinging back had momentarily blocked my passage. I thrust it open, and had taken one step forward to Forrest's assistance, when Mannering with a herculean effort, swung the detective from his feet, and hurled him full at me. It was a magnificent effort, and I went down with a crash amongst the remains of the lunch with Forrest on the top of me. The whole incident had not lasted twenty seconds, and before either of us could regain our feet, the door was slammed and locked.
Forrest was the first to regain his feet, and he rushed at the door furiously. We were trapped. The door was a strong one of oak, and I remembered that it fastened by a couple of bolts on the other side. The detective worried the door like a bear at the bars of his cage, but he could not move it. He gnashed his teeth, and he was white with rage. From the other side we could hear the sound of heavy objects being moved, and we guessed that our enemy was piling the most massive articles his workshop contained against the door to make it more secure.