He then carefully groped his way in the pitchy darkness to the top of the stairs and began slowly to descend.
It was many minutes before he reached the passage, and when he did, he felt for the wall of the passage, and glided along it towards the open doorway.
As he neared it, he heard two persons conversing, and the theme of their conversation struck a chill to his heart.
“Yes, you may pass in,” said a voice; “my orders are to let nobody out. We are hunting up a fellow who has committed a murder.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. If the people in the parlour here know you, you can pass.”
“I live in the house,” said the other speaker, “they will recognise me directly.”
Some little bustle now ensued, and a third voice inquired,—
“Do you know this person?” said the person who was keeping guard.
“Oh yes,” was the reply, “he lives up stairs.”