So the night dragged into the small hours; and about three o’clock, after a longer interval than before, she determined to take one more peep and then get into bed.
She had already grasped the door-handle, when she withdrew her hand as though it had been stung by an adder. A faint scrooping sound told her that someone was doing something in the corridor, and half a minute’s strained listening told her that, whatever that something was, it was persistent and continuous. It went on and on, like the drone of a bee in a bottle.
Silently crossing the room, she turned down her gas to a pin-point and blew out the candle with which she had intended to investigate. Then she returned to the door, and, opening it noiselessly, tiptoed into the outer darkness. Here the sound, though still faint, was more distinctly audible, and she was able to locate it at the door of the room occupied by the Duke. The discovery left her no time for fear, or even for conjecture. There was only one thing to be done—to rouse Alec and the Duke, but without, till that supreme moment, alarming the unseen manipulator at her cousin’s door. Thus would she narrow the time at the disposal
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