It occurred to me that Antonio had detected him from within, and that he might be an unwelcome visitor. I recollected Kirk’s strict injunctions to the faithful Italian.
“Antonio may be out,” I suggested.
“But the maids would surely be at home,” he argued. “I wonder if thieves are inside? I somehow suspect it,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I distinctly heard a movement in the hall about ten minutes ago,” he answered. “Will you go round to the front and see if there are lights in any of the rooms, while I remain here? You’ll soon see the house—the first with the long columns at the drawing-room windows.”
I consented, and was quickly round at the front.
But the whole place was in total darkness. Not a light showed anywhere.
I returned, and suggested that in passing he might have been mistaken. There were lights in the windows of the adjoining house.
“No,” declared the young man, who, by his speech, I recognised was well educated, “I made no mistake. There’s some mystery here. I wired from Paris to Miss Greer this morning, making an appointment this evening. It’s curious that she’s out.”
“You are a friend of the family, I suppose?” I asked, eager to know who the young fellow was.