He removed his coat, and hung it over the back of a chair.
Then he glanced at the single window, which was closed. An open window would mean loose clippings fluttering about in any vagrant breeze. Still, there would not be much wind from the court, and the room was insufferably hot.
Burke went to the window, and unfastened the lock. He tried to pull up the sash, but it would not budge.
It had evidently been closed all winter. For a minute, Burke tugged in vain; then he felt the window yield slightly, and he prepared for the final effort that would raise the sash.
“P-s-s-t!”
The low, whistling whisper came from the doorway. Burke turned suddenly.
A man had opened the door, and was standing there. He was a young fellow, good-looking, and of powerful build. He was in his shirt sleeves.
“Don’t open that window!” exclaimed the man, in a low voice. “Turn back to it, again, and pretend to pull at it.”
Burke obeyed. The man’s tone betokened some important purpose.
The man had not stepped inside the door; apparently he did not wish to be seen.