"Here he is!" replied the girl, opening the door and taking out the cage containing the tame rat.
"Is that his pet?" asked the young man, bending to examine the little animal, whose beady eyes regarded him with considerable apprehension.
"Yes. Nibby always feeds off his master's plate after he has finished. A sweet little thing, isn't he?"
Durrant agreed, but the possession of such a pet showed him that Boyne was a man of some eccentricity.
"Would you like to see the door of the locked room?" Marigold asked. "If so, I'll go downstairs and keep my aunt there while you run up to the top floor."
"Excellent! I've brought my electric torch with me."
So while Marigold descended to the kitchen to talk to her aunt and help to prepare the cup of tea, young Durrant switched on his light and rushed up the stairs, half fearing lest the front door should suddenly open and Boyne appear.
Arrived at the top of the stairs, he was confronted by the door which led into the attic, a stout one of oak, he noted. The doors of all the other rooms were of deal, painted and grained. This, however, was heavy, and of oiled oak.
After careful examination, he came to the conclusion that the particular door was much more modern than the others, and the circular brass keyhole of the Yale latch gave it the appearance of the front door of a house, rather than that of a room.
Some strange secret, no doubt, lay behind that locked door.