Stealthily Fuller crossed the room and did so; then he stood waiting. In a few moments he heard a slight creak from the hall, and a muffled sort of jar. A minute or two passed; he was then astonished to hear the voice of the secret agent speaking in an unconcerned tone of voice.
"Hello," muttered the young man, "he is mighty cool about it, whatever it is. Turning off the lights to hold a conversation is rather new, I should say, outside of a spiritualistic seance."
A short time passed; then steps came along the darkened hall, and Ashton-Kirk's voice said:
"Now, Fuller, the lights, if you please."
Fuller turned on the lights once more, and again the two entered the library.
"I thought I heard you speaking to some one," said Fuller inquiringly.
"Over the telephone," said the other, quietly. "There was a little matter that I desired information upon."
Again he resumed his inspection of the room. The furniture, piece by piece, passed under his keen eye; the floor, the walls, the hangings, the books and writing materials—nothing escaped him. At length he came once more to the highboy with its numerous drawers and glistening glass knobs.
First one and then another of the drawers he pulled open; like those of the desk, they told of the same hasty hand. However, this seemed to be all they had to tell, for the secret agent did not spend more than an instant over each. But as he was about to open the last but one, Fuller saw him pause and bend nearer. Then out came a morocco case and from this was produced a powerful magnifying glass. It was the knob upon the left hand side of the drawer that had caught his attention; putting the lens on this it threw up a thick, dark splotch.
"Blood!" said Ashton-Kirk.