A thought had suddenly occurred to Walter that perhaps Enid's intention was to make a call there, after all.
"Our only way to obtain entrance is, I think, by one of the upper windows," replied the man whose very life was occupied by the investigation of mysteries. "In the laundry I noticed a ladder. Let us go and get it."
So the ladder, a rather rotten and insecure one, was obtained, and after some difficulty placed against the wall. It would not, however, reach to the windows, as first intended, therefore Walter mounted upon the slippery, moss-grown tiles of a wing of the house, and after a few moments' exploration discovered a skylight which proved to be over the head of the servants' staircase.
This he lifted, and, fixing around a chimney-stack a strong silk rope he had brought in his pocket ready for any emergency, he threw it down the opening, and quickly lowered himself through.
Scarcely had he done so, and was standing on the uncarpeted stairs, when his quick ear caught the sound of Deacon's footsteps receding over the gravel around to the front of the house.
Then, a second later, he heard a loud challenge from the gloom in a man's voice that was unfamiliar:
"Who's there?"
There was no reply. Walter listened with bated breath.
"What are you doing there?" cried the new-comer in a voice in which was a marked foreign accent. "Speak! speak! or I'll shoot!"