Then turning, he hurried along the corridor in the direction of the main staircase and disappeared.
“What does all this mean?” I asked Sylvia, who still stood there pale and panting.
“I—I don’t know, Owen,” she gasped. Then, rushing across to the window, she looked out.
“That man has gone!” she cried. “I—I knew he was watching, but had no idea of the reason.”
“He was evidently watching for your father,” I said.
“He was watching us—you and I—not him.”
We heard two men pass the door quickly. One of them exclaimed in French—
“See! The window at the end! It would be easy to get from there to the roof of the next house.”
“Yes!” cried his companion. “He has evidently gone that way. We must follow.”