Guest drew a deep breath, full of relief, for the tension was, for the moment, at an end.
He followed with Stratton, whose eyes now met his; and there was such a look of helplessness and despair in the gaze that Guest caught his friend’s arm.
“What is it, old fellow?” he whispered; but there was no reply, and, after closing the door, they followed into Brettison’s room, where the sergeant stood ready for them with his companion.
As they entered, the man closed the door and said sharply:
“You’re right, gentlemen; there has been foul play.”
A cold sweat burst out over Guest’s brow, and his hair began to cling to his temples. He once more glanced at Stratton, but he did not move a muscle; merely stood listening, as if surprised at the man’s assertion.
“There have always been two cupboards here, made out of these two old passages, and this one has been lately fastened up.”
“No, no,” said Stratton, in a low, deep tone.
“What, sir! Look here,” cried the man, and he shook one of the great panels low down in the door, and the other higher. “What do you say to that? Both those have been out quite lately.”
Stratton bent forward, looking startled, and then stepped close up to the door, to see for himself if the man was correct.