“Switch off those lights,” Sir Clinton said in a whisper, pointing to the hall lights which Cecil had left burning. “We mustn’t give the show away if we can help it. Some one might be looking out of a window and be tempted to come down and turn them out. You’re supposed to be in bed, aren’t you?”
Cecil nodded without speaking, and, crossing the hall, he extinguished the lamps. Sir Clinton pulled an electric torch from his pocket.
“There’s a staircase giving access to the servant’s quarters, isn’t there?”
Cecil confirmed this, and Sir Clinton turned to the Inspector.
“Which of your men is on duty at the museum door to-night?”
“Froggatt,” the Inspector answered.
“We’ll go along to him,” said Sir Clinton. “I want you, Cecil, to take the constable and post him at the bottom of that stair. Here’s the flash-lamp.”
Froggatt was surprised to see the party.
“Now, Froggatt,” the Chief Constable directed. “You’re to go with Mr. Chacewater. He’ll show you where to stand. All you have to do is to stick to your post there until you’re relieved. It’ll only be a matter of ten minutes or so. Don’t make the slightest sound unless anything goes wrong. Your business is to prevent any one getting down the stair. There’ll be no trouble. If you see any one, just shout: ‘Who’s there?’ That’ll be quite enough.”
The Inspector and Sir Clinton waited on the threshold of the museum until Cecil came back.