He jumped up to do her bidding, while she crossed to the corner cupboard. Taking the tray from the little carved stand, he glanced round the room, and noting a small table near the door moved towards it.
As he did so he saw the door, on which hung a heavy embroidered portière, gently closing. Next instant he remembered that Maddelena had certainly shut the door after her when she entered; he had noticed the clever little backward kick with which she did so, and had heard the click of the latch. None of them had been anywhere near the door since. Who then was outside?
Striding swiftly across the room he dropped rather than set the tray on the table, sprang to the door and threw it wide open. The outer hall was dark and silent.
“Who is there?” he demanded, and at the same moment Maddelena called from the other side the room:
“What is the matter, Mr. Starr?”
“The door has been opened—someone has been listening,” he said, stepping warily into the darkness and feeling for the electric switch. “Where is that switch?”
“By the hall door, on the right,” said Maddelena, hurrying to him, while Cacciola followed more slowly, shuffling in his big slippers.
He switched the light on. The small, square hall was empty but for themselves. Maddelena passed swiftly along and switched on another light that illuminated the two passages at the end that ran right and left. No one there either.
“I shut the door when I came in,” she whispered.
“I know. I saw you,” he answered as softly.