tion might prove more important than my investigations in Green Briar. I stole across to the door and opened it noiselessly, surprised to discover it had been left unguarded. Either the men below were careless, were innocent of wrong intent, or else were completely deceived as to my character and purpose. There was no one visible in the upper hall, and I leaned over the stair rail gazing down, and listening. A light still burned within the dining room, but there was no sound of voices, or of movement. I waited there motionless for several minutes, unable to assure myself that the conference of the two men had been terminated so quickly. Surely they must be there—yet where the lamp burned no doubt, and would resume conversation shortly.
The silence continued, and I began to cautiously steal passage down the carpeted stairs, crouching well back against the side-wall. Little by little I was able to peer in through the open door—the chairs were vacant; there was no one there. The gleam of the lamp revealed a deserted room, the table still littered with dishes. What had become then of Harwood and Taylor? Could they have gone to bed already? Surely I must have heard them if they had climbed the stairs. If not, had they ventured forth together on some secret mission into the night? or were they sitting beyond in the
