“You can stain the floor with Condy’s Fluid,” said Mr. Dick, who was really a sociable man, and was beginning to be interested in the proceedings. “When we were first married and went into our new house, my wife——”
“Now, don’t start talking about your wife,” said Dr. O’Grady, “just as you’re beginning to cheer up. You’ll upset yourself again.”
Mr. Sanders went down on his hands and knees. He made a little pool of Condy’s Fluid on the floor and drew lines from it with his forefinger. The rest of the party watched with great interest. Suddenly he stopped and knelt bolt upright.
“What’s that noise?” he said.
“I didn’t hear any noise,” said Dr. O’Grady. “There wasn’t any noise. Go on Hop Scotching.”
“There was a noise. I heard it. A noise like a fall. I have very sharp hearing.”
“That always goes with a weak heart,” said Dr. O’Grady. “But——”
He stopped abruptly. This time there was an unmistakable noise, a shout uttered somewhere in the lower part of the house, which reached even the remote room where the captives were. They drew together and waited, breathless. Mr. Sanders grew very white.
“They’re fighting downstairs,” he said.
“Perhaps the police have come,” said Mr. Dick. “Perhaps we shall be rescued. I knew that my wife would do everything to find me. I knew she would find me.”