There was the swift patter of retreating footsteps, and then a sudden halt, and they heard the watchman command: “Go back, and keep the other two till I come.”
The next instant from the outside the door was softly closed upon them.
It had no more than shut when to the surprise of Miss Forbes the young man, with a delighted and vindictive chuckle, sprang to the desk and began to drum upon it with his fingers. It was as though he were practising upon a type-writer.
“He missed these,” he muttered jubilantly. The girl leaned forward. Beneath his fingers she saw, flush with the table, a roll of little ivory buttons. She read the words “Stables,” “Servants’ hall.” She raised a pair of very beautiful and very bewildered eyes.
“But if he wanted the servants, why didn’t the watchman do that?” she asked.
“Because he isn’t a watchman,” answered the young man. “Because he’s robbing this house.”
He took the revolver from his encumbering great-coat, slipped it in his pocket, and threw the coat from him. He motioned the girl into a corner. “Keep out of the line of the door,” he ordered.
“I don’t understand,” begged the girl.
“They came in a car,” whispered the young man. “It’s broken down, and they can’t get away. When the big fellow stopped us and I flashed my torch, I saw their car behind him in the road with the front off and the lights out. He’d seen the lamps of our car, and now they want it to escape in. That’s why he brought us here—to keep us away from our car.”
“And Fred!” gasped the girl. “Fred’s hurt!”