Guest took a step toward the stairs, but turned again.
“I don’t like the exposé, sir,” he said sharply. “There might be reasons why I should repent going.”
“But you must have that door opened at once,” cried Sir Mark, now once more growing excited, as if Guest’s manner were contagious.
Guest drew his hand over the door in search of a hold to try and drag it toward him, ending by thrusting it in by the letter slit and giving it a vigorous shake.
He withdrew it, shaking his head, and paused, for steps were heard. But they passed the doorway at the bottom of the building and died away, while, as he listened, all seemed to be silent upstairs and down.
“We must have a carpenter,” he said aloud; and, once more placing his ear to the letter slit, he listened, and then came away to where Sir Mark stood.
“I’m certain I heard breathing within there,” he whispered. “Someone is listening, and I’m sure there is something wrong; but I don’t like to leave you here alone, Sir Mark.”
“Why?”
“In case some scoundrel should make a sudden rush out and escape.”
“Fetch a policeman,” said Sir Mark sturdily. “Let him try it while you are gone.”