“Don't play the fool,” said Barnes crossly.
“Ghostly servants are all asleep,” said Meagle gravely, “but I'll wake them up before I've done with them. It's scandalous keeping us out here in the dark.”
He plied the knocker again, and the noise volleyed in the emptiness beyond. Then with a sudden exclamation he put out his hands and stumbled forward.
“Why, it was open all the time,” he said, with an odd catch in his voice. “Come on.”
“I don't believe it was open,” said Lester, hanging back. “Somebody is playing us a trick.”
“Nonsense,” said Meagle sharply. “Give me a candle. Thanks. Who's got a match?”
Barnes produced a box and struck one, and Meagle, shielding the candle with his hand, led the way forward to the foot of the stairs. “Shut the door, somebody,” he said, “there's too much draught.”
“It is shut,” said White, glancing behind him.
Meagle fingered his chin. “Who shut it?” he inquired, looking from one to the other. “Who came in last?”
“I did,” said Lester, “but I don't remember shutting it—perhaps I did, though.”