“Cosgrove!”
“Oh! I haven’t heard of him, I believe.”
“Well, you will.”
He was gone!
I listened to his waning footsteps down the hall for only a brace of seconds before I had made a hasty, rash decision. I would see, before anyone else, what was the state of affairs inside the room where I had witnessed this old fellow’s dubious practices. I edged around the curve of the stair, saw him moving briskly away at the other end of the wainscoted and carpeted passage, which was quite broad enough to be called a good-sized gallery. There were two doors on the right, four on the left (counting one by the stair-foot, where the corridor broadened almost into a room), and one away at the far end, which last must lead into the conservatory. A collection of portraits, large and small, hung over and between the doors, although, since the hall was wholly enclosed by rooms, they must never be seen save by artificial light.
By the time I had comprehended so much, the old gentleman had disappeared through the farthest door at the left. An entrance behind the stairs I judged to lead into the library where the light was blazing, perhaps as a beacon for Sir Brooke. The room I sought must lie beyond the door facing the stair-foot. I felt like a burglarious person while I opened it and stole into darkness, taking out my electric-torch. And the moment afterward I felt like a fool.
The yellow cone of light played on walls hung with trophies and weapons of every age and sort. I saw the old candle-bracket by the window, and the closed doors leading to rooms on each side, as well as to the open. Standing where the “men” had been were two hollow suits of armour, complete in plate and chain.
So the old codger’s only crime must have been a little harmless fussing about. Still, why had he chosen near-darkness when there was, as now I saw, an electric switch beside the door? Perhaps the switch was out of order; I had not the courage to try it and see. Almost, but not quite, I acquitted the white-haired gentleman of evil design.
I lost no time in returning to my station in the hall. I was on the settle, and had almost decided that Crofts Pendleton had forgotten me when he appeared apologetically, with the butler, carrying a loaded tray, at his heels.
“If it’s compatible with bathing, I got Blenkinson to put some dishes together. Dinner’s just over.”