The landing and stairs were thickly-carpeted, just as they were below the door. But about the place was the close musty smell of a house that for years had remained closed and neglected.
From the landing were three other doors beside the one at which they stood, all of them closed.
Charlie took his bearings, and, pointing to the door farthest away from them, whispered:
“That’s the drawing-room, no doubt. And that’s the door of the room adjoining. I expect it’s a big room opening from back to front like all drawing-rooms in these houses.”
“Awkward if it proves to be the old man’s bedroom,” Max replied, with a laugh.
“We must risk that. My own belief is that he sleeps up on the next floor. These are all reception-rooms, without a doubt,” was Charlie’s answer. It was strange, after all the time he had been in the old man’s employ, that this should be the first occasion he should explore the house.
Those moments of pitch darkness were exciting ones.
They resolved to enter the door furthest away, the door which they believed led to the drawing-room, and together they moved noiselessly across with that purpose.
The key was in the lock. Without noise Max turned it, and slowly pushed open the door.
Both entered, holding their breath and fearing to make the slightest sound, for they knew not whether old Sam was asleep there.