Beresford broke in. “The man who fell into the room downstairs?”
Billy nodded.
“Yes. On second floor, walking around.”
Beresford smiled, a bit smugly.
“I told you!” he said to Miss Cornelia. “I didn’t think he was as dazed as he pretended to be.”
Miss Cornelia, too, had been pondering the problem of the Unknown. She reached a swift decision. If he were what he pretended to be—a dazed wanderer, he could do them no harm. If he were not—a little strategy properly employed might unravel the whole mystery.
“Bring him up here, Billy,” she said, turning to the butler.
Billy started to obey. But the darkness of the corridor seemed to appall him anew the moment he took a step toward it.
“You give candle, please?” he asked with a pleading expression. “Don’t like dark.”
Miss Cornelia handed him one of the two precious candles. Then his present terror reminded her of that one other occasion when she had seen him lose completely his stoic Oriental calm.