“Got to see a man for a minute. Fellow named Evans, who was at school with me. Most important.”
And with that curious snipelike abruptness which characterised his movements to-night, Willoughby Braddock slammed the front door violently and disappeared.
Sam’s feelings, as the result of his host’s impulsive departure, were somewhat mixed. To the credit side of the ledger he could place the fact that he was safely under the shelter of a roof, which he had not expected to be an hour ago; but he wished that, before leaving, his friend had given him a clew as to where was situated this drawing-room with its sofa whereon he was to spend the remainder of the night.
However, a brief exploration would no doubt reveal the hidden chamber. It might even be that room whose door faced him across the hall.
He was turning the handle with the view of testing this theory, when a voice behind him, speaking softly but with a startling abruptness, said, “Hands up!”
At the foot of the stairs, her wide mouth set in a determined line, her tow-coloured hair adorned with gleaming curling pins, there was standing a young woman in a pink dressing gown and slippers. In her right hand, pointed at his head, she held a revolver.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAM AT SAN RAFAEL
IT is not given to every girl who makes prophecies to find those prophecies fulfilled within a few short hours of their utterance; and the emotions of Claire Lippett, as she confronted Sam in the hall of San Rafael, were akin to those of one who sees the long shot romp in ahead of the field or who unexpectedly solves the cross-word puzzle. Only that evening she had predicted that burglars would invade the house, and here one was, as large as life. Mixed, therefore, with her disapproval of this midnight marauder, was a feeling almost of gratitude to him for being there. Of fear she felt no trace. She presented the pistol with a firm hand.
One calls it a pistol for the sake of technical accuracy. To Sam’s startled senses it appeared like a young cannon, and so deeply did he feel regarding it that he made it the subject of his opening remark—which, by all the laws of etiquette, should have been a graceful apology for and explanation of his intrusion.
“Steady with the howitzer!” he urged.