But there was no answer.
Standing very still he listened. The house was deathly silent and he could almost hear the pulsing of his heart. Then very faintly he became aware of another sound—the gentle hiss of a man breathing.
"Now we know where we are," thought Richard bracing himself up. "Sneaked in while I was looking at the bedroom, I suppose. Not going to let those idiots frighten me with bogey tricks."
As quietly as possible he went down on all fours and ran his fingers across the floor boards in a semi-circle. They had not travelled very far before encountering the hard edge of a boot sole. That was good enough for Richard. Judging the distance nicely he seized its owner's ankle in an iron grip and springing to his feet lifted it high into the air and flung it backward. There was a squeal and a crash as the chair went over and Richard broke into a laugh.
"Look here, Laurence," he said. "I've had enough of your practical jokes tonight. You'll get hurt one of these days if you go on being so funny."
And without warning the lights went up.
Laurence was scrambling to his feet, rubbing the back of his head ruefully, and there were two other men in the room. The first was a stranger to Richard and the second, who stood by the door, was one of the servants. The stranger was a shrewd-looking young man of moderately prepossessing appearance. He nodded to Richard as to an old acquaintance.
"We meet again," he remarked affably, "though you don't appear to recognise me."
"Well you're not much to remember," replied Richard whose temper was a little frayed.
"My name is Smith. Had the honour of sharing your taxi to Hendon the other day. You were good enough to ask me in for a drink."