“What—now?”
“Of course, silly.”
“But why—this time of night—it doesn’t seem—”
“Oh, I’ve got something most important to say to you—very important indeed. It won’t keep. I’ll be there in five minutes. Listen for the taxi—will you, like a dear boy?—and come down and open the door for me. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” he returned automatically, and hung up the receiver.
What on earth could she be wanting, that could have turned up so unexpectedly in the half-hour since he had left her and that wouldn’t keep till morning?
Abruptly he became aware that the air in the room was stiflingly close. And he had left the windows open when he went out; he knew that he wasn’t mistaken about that; and now they were closed, the shades drawn tight!
This considered in connection with the open door that had been locked, and the heated desk-lamp that should have been cold, he couldn’t avoid the conclusion that somebody had been in his rooms, an unlawful trespasser, just a few minutes before he came in—possibly the very man who had rushed past him in such violent haste at the front door.
He jumped up and turned on all the lights in the room. A first, hasty glance about showed him nothing as it had not been when he had left six hours or so ago—aside from the front windows, of course. Mechanically, thinking hard and fast, he went to these latter and opened them wide.
The possibility that the intruder might still be in the rooms—in his bedroom, for instance—popped into his head, and he went hurriedly to investigate. But there wasn’t anybody in the back-room or the bath-room.