Chapter Twenty Two.
At the silent Dock.
Even as Percy Guest rushed at his friend’s door to bring one foot against the lock with all his might, he felt the futility of the proceeding. For he knew how solid the old oak outer panels had been made; but he did not pause, and as his foot struck against it there was a dull sound—nothing more.
Guest drew back again, fully impressed by the hopelessness of his proceedings, for the outer door opened toward him, and the effect of his next thrust was only to drive it against the jamb.
He was recoiling again, with his muscles quivering from the violence of his efforts, when Miss Jerrold caught his arm.
“Mr Guest,” she said firmly, “this is madness. You will bring a crowd of people about us, and only workmen could open that door.”
Guest hesitated a moment or two.
“Stop!” he said. “His friend, Mr Brettison, is in the next chambers, perhaps. I’ll go and see.”
“Come, Rebecca,” said the admiral scornfully; “we have no business here.”
He held out his arm, but his sister thrust it away.