They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his companion's arm.
“I don't hear her,” he whispered. “You don't s'pose she HAS done it? Godfreys mighty!”
The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some irritation.
“Hush!” he murmured. “Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once.”
Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it:
“Here—here 'tis,” panted Kyan. “Here's the door. I don't hear nothin', do you? Listen!”
They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door.
“Miss Pepper,” he said; “Miss Pepper, are you there?”
Kyan caught his breath. No answer.
“Miss Pepper,” repeated the minister. “Miss Pepper!”