"Perhaps not," I assented. "The rug is deeply piled, and a man would have to walk pretty heavily to be heard."
"A man—or a woman," amended Warriner. Of course I understood him, but it was none of my business to prejudice Eunice Trevor's case. The very fact that I instinctively disliked her imposed its obligations.
Warriner motioned me to yield him the revolving chair, and I arose with alacrity. He sat down quite as though intent upon testing the smoothness of the swivelling and the depth and comfort of the upholstery. But presently he swung round and faced the fireplace and windows. Then he drew from his pocket a pair of French folding opera glasses and continued his observations for several minutes; finally, he glanced at me and beckoned. I went over to the big desk.
"From where I sit," began Warriner, "I can see an odd-appearing break in the woods on 'Sugar Loaf.' Take the chair and I'll explain what I have in mind."
I obeyed and Warriner leaned over my shoulder, pointing. "Look straight," he said, "through that small, square panel in the window on the left of the fireplace; it is called the pridella, I believe. Now take the glasses."
The window was the one depicting the rebellion of the sons of Korah; it was a vivid representation of the earth opening under the feet of the guilty men, and was brilliant with yellow and crimson flames arising from the abyss. Through the open pridella I could see "Sugar Loaf," the latter a hill of a peculiar conical shape that rose directly from the meadows watered by the little river Whippany. Its distance from the house was about half a mile, and it was covered with a dense growth of oaks and beeches.
Now that I had the glasses focussed I understood what Warriner was driving at. Framed in the square of the pridella was a small opening in the leafy wall; it looked as though a shelf had been cut out of the cliff face, and evidently with a purpose. But what sort of a purpose? "An observation post," I hazarded.
Warriner nodded. "Something like that was in my own mind," he said. "What do you say to our walking over there and making a reconnaissance?"
"Just as you like," I assented. "Anyway it will be a pleasant stroll."
Supplying ourselves with the primal necessities of stout sticks and brierwood pipes we set out. Gyp, an Irish terrier, looked longingly upon us, and Warriner, after a momentary hesitation, told him that he might accompany the expedition; whereupon there followed much staccato yelping and the apparent vision of one small dog in several places at once.