Rendered moody by his failure to find the evidence he sought, the Frenchman returned to the hall and was about to retrace his steps to the first floor when he felt a pressure on his arm and heard Bendlow’s hoarse, low-pitched warning in his ear.
“Something’s in the vestibule.”
Peret’s muscles grew tense.
“Somebody coming in?” he asked quickly.
“Nope,” came the reply. “It’s something in the vestibule between the two doors. It musta been there all the time we’ve been here, as the front door hasn’t been opened since I’ve been on guard.”
“How do you know something’s there?” whispered Peret.
“Heard it moving around, and when I put my ear to the keyhole I heard it breathing.” was Bendlow’s startling reply.
Peret’s jaws closed with a snap, and his grasp on his automatic tightened.
“Eh, bien,” he hissed. “Follow me down stairs. Keep hold of my coat so we won’t get separated. If anything approaches you from the rear, shoot first and ask questions afterwards. It begins to look as if we had tracked the Whispering Thing to its lair. En avant!”
Cautiously and noiselessly, the two men made their way down the dark steps to the first floor. Followed closely by Bendlow, who had an automatic in his hand, Peret tip-toed across the hall and applied his ear to the keyhole in the front door. He heard a slight movement on the other side of the door, and his spine stiffened.