Miss Blow made no answer. She was opening the doors of the small cupboards in the sideboard, in the hope, perhaps, of discovering the mutilated remains of some of Mr. Red’s victims. She found nothing but empty bottles and some wine-glasses.
“Even the door,” said Lord Manton, “has been painted, and there is a large yellow dragon on it, a mother dragon with several young ones. You’d better follow her, Goddard.”
He added this hurriedly, and obviously did not refer to the female dragon. Miss Blow had opened the door and passed through it into the hall.
“The door opposite to you,” said Lord Manton, “leads into the drawing-room.”
It did not look like a drawing-room when they entered it. A heavy deal table, like a carpenter’s bench, stood in the middle of the floor, and on it were a number of curiously shaped metal flasks. There was a pile of long brass tubes in one corner of the room, which looked like empty cartridge cases, intended to contain ammunition for some very large gun. There were wooden shelves all round the walls stocked with thick glass bottles, such as are seen in chemists’ shops, bottles with glass stoppers. In one corner the floor was charred, as if a fire had been lighted on it.
“Nobody here,” said Mr. Goddard, looking round.
Lord Manton was staring curiously at the things about him. He picked up one of the brass tubes.
“A.M.B.A.,” he read. “What do you suppose that means, Miss Blow? Hullo! She’s gone again. After her, Goddard! We can’t allow her to escape. There may be an explosion at any moment. This place looks uncommonly explosive, and if she is shattered into little bits her father will hold us responsible.”
Miss Blow stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening intently.