The electric lamps were shut off in the corridor, but the place was dimly illuminated by the flood of light streaming through the secretary’s bedroom door.
He had reached the door of Sir Anthony’s room, when it was opened, and Sir Anthony himself, fully dressed and carrying a black bag in his hand, appeared.
On seeing Folgam he started, like a person who has received a shock.
“I thought I heard a cry,” said Folgam. “I thought some one might be ill, sir—”
“Ah!” said the other, “I heard nothing. Go to your room and tell them in the morning not to awaken me till ten. I shall be at work till late.”
Folgam apologized for his mistake and withdrew, and Sir Anthony, retiring into his room, shut the door.
Ten minutes later, had anyone been watching, they would have perceived Gyde, bag in hand, passing down the corridor.
He was holding one of those small electric lamps that light on pressure of a button. He came down the broad staircase, making as little sound as a cat.
He unbarred and unchained the front door, and if the bars and chains had been covered with velvet he could not have made less noise.
Closing the door behind him, he stood upon the steps.