"Hark!" she motioned.
He heard it, too—a scuffling noise of heavy feet behind a closed door somewhere beyond the darkened dining-room.
"There's somebody in the kitchenette!" she whispered.
Vaux produced his pistol; they stole forward into the dining-room; halted by the table.
"Flash that door," he said in a low voice.
Her electric torch played over the closed kitchen door for an instant, then, at a whispered word from him, she shut it off and the dining-room was plunged again into darkness.
And then, before Vaux or Miss Erith had concluded what next was to be done, the kitchen door opened; and, against the dangling lighted bulb within, loomed a burly figure wearing hat and overcoat and a big bass voice rumbled through the apartment:
"All right, all right, keep your shirt on and I'll get your coat and vest for you—"
Then Miss Erith flashed her torch full in the man's face, blinding him. And Vaux covered him with levelled pistol.
Even then the man made a swift motion toward his pocket, but at Vaux's briskly cheerful warning he checked himself and sullenly and very slowly raised both empty hands.