CHAPTER VII
MUSIC
Stryker, who kept guard at the door of McGuire's room, opened it cautiously in response to Peter's knock. He found McGuire sitting rigidly in a rocking-chair at the side of the room, facing the windows, a whisky bottle and glass on the table beside him. His face had lost its pallor, but in his eyes was the same look of glassy bewilderment.
"Why the H—— couldn't you come sooner?" He whined the question, not angrily, but querulously, like a child.
"I was having a look around," replied Peter coolly.
"Oh! And did you find anybody?"
"No."
"H-m! I thought you wouldn't."
Peter hesitated. He meant to conceal the housekeeper's share in the night's encounters, but he knew that both Andy and the chauffeur would talk, and so,
"There was somebody outside, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You were not mistaken, a man prowling in the dark near the kitchen. Andy thought it was the chauffeur, who was in the garage washing the cars."