“I never had any further chance, sir. I never went into the room again. The supper was all ready for them. I’d taken in the bottle of whisky and the soda-water which the gentleman had ordered, and the fire was made up. The gentleman had told me, when he came in the second time, that he and the friend he was expecting would very likely sit up very late, as they’d a lot of business to talk over, and he said that if I wanted to go to bed he’d let his friend out, and see that the front door was fast and the parlour lights turned out.”
“Did you go to bed?”
“No, sir, I did not. I sit up late myself, as a rule, and I thought that what he meant by late would perhaps be half-past one, or so. I’d my own supper to get, too, and after I’d had it I sat up smoking in the bar.”
“Did you hear anything of the two men in the parlour?”
“Well, sir, I once or twice crossed the hall, and I could hear them talking.”
“Just ordinary tones, I suppose? What I mean is you didn’t hear any sounds of quarrelling—high voices, or anything of that sort?”
“Oh no, sir! Just ordinary tones.”
“Very well. Now then, you said just now that there was one man with Guy Markenmore until two o’clock, and after that there were two men with him until three. What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Well, sir, this. I told you that my wife was poorly that night and had gone to bed early. About two o’clock in the morning I went upstairs to see how she was getting on. She was sleeping all right, so I went down again. As I passed the parlour door, I thought I heard three voices instead of two. I stopped and listened, and I distinctly heard three voices. So I knew then that another man had joined the strange gentleman and Mr. Guy.”
“But—that seems a strange thing, Grimsdale! How could the third man get into your house without your knowledge? At that hour of the night I suppose all your doors were fast, eh?”