As they stood there on the landing Guest hesitated for a moment or two, an undefinable feeling of dread having attacked him; there was a curious ringing in the ears, and his heart beat with a heavy throb.
He was brought back to his duty by the cold, stern voice of the admiral.
“Well, Mr Guest,” he said again with a cold formality of tone, “you have brought us here,”—and he waved his hand toward the door.
Guest sprang forward, knocked sharply, and stood back to wait, while Miss Jerrold drew a long, hissing breath, perfectly audible in the silence.
There was no response, and the chirping of the inn sparrows came painfully loud through an open window somewhere above.
“What a dismal place for a man to choose,” muttered Miss Jerrold. “Had you not better knock again?”
Guest repeated the summons, and the admiral leaned forward, listening attentively.
Still there was no reply; and, growing agitated now, Guest once more knocked loudly, with the repetition of the knocker, telling plainly of the trembling hand of him who raised it and let it fall.
He drew back, to stand listening intently till Miss Jerrold spoke.
“He must be out,” said the lady quietly. “Knock again, Mr Guest.”