ly;
and, as he spoke, Guest again gazed at Stratton, and thought of how
short a time it was since he had been in the habit of going to that
closet to fetch out soda water, spirits, and cigars.

What did it mean? What could it mean, and why did not Stratton speak
out and say: "The closet belongs to this side of the suite."

But no; he was silent and rigid, while the sense of a coming calamity
loomed broader to mingle with a cloud of regrets.

He was trying to think out some means of retiring from the scrutiny, as
the sergeant turned to his companion and said a few words in a low
tone--words which Guest felt certain meant orders to force open the
closet door, which, for some reason, Stratton had fastened up, when the
sergeant spoke out:

"Now, gentlemen, please, we'll go back to the other chambers."

Guest drew a deep breath, full of relief, for the tension was, for the
moment, at an end.

He followed with Stratton, whose eyes now met his; and there was such a
look of helplessness and despair in the gaze that Guest caught his
friend's arm.

"What is it, old fellow?" he whispered; but there was no reply, and,
after closing the door, they followed into Brettison's room, where the
sergeant stood ready for them with his companion.

As they entered, the man closed the door and said sharply:

"You're right, gentlemen; there has been foul play."

A cold sweat burst out over Guest's brow, and his hair began to cling to
his temples. He once more glanced at Stratton, but he did not move a
muscle; merely stood listening, as if surprised at the man's assertion.

"There have always been two cupboards here, made out of these two old
passages, and this one has been lately fastened up."

"No, no," said Stratton, in a low, deep tone.

"What, sir! Look here," cried the man, and he shook one of the great
panels low down in the door, and the other higher. "What do you say to
that? Both those have been out quite lately."

Stratton bent forward, looking startled, and then stepped close up to
the door, to see for himself if the man was correct.

The lower panel was certainly loose, and could be shaken about a quarter
of an inch each way, but that seemed to be all; and looking relieved he
drew back.

"Nonsense!" he said. "Absurd!"

Guest looked at him sharply, for the voice seemed to be that of a
stranger.

"Not very absurd, sir," replied the sergeant. "This door was made two
or three hundred years ago, I should say