was a bulky man, he made no noise. He made no noise, that is, until (about ten seconds later) his footstep squelched in the mud; as though he had stopped dead.
Far over in the right-hand corner of the yard, the beam of a flashlight had appeared. We watched it, silent in the soft-rustling rain: sharp in contrast to the ugly, suggestive reddish glow dancing in the windows of the stone house. It was directed on the ground. It held steady; then it winked off and on three times rapidly, a pause, a longer flash, and disappeared.
I nudged Halliday as he started to speak. After a brief interval, mysterious with rustlings and splashings, there was a reply. From the spot where I judged Masters to be, Masters' flashlight did the same.
Then somebody was moving over there in the dark, and Masters' bulk appeared before us on the steps again, breathing heavily.
'Signal?' I asked.
'It's one of our people. Yes. I answered him. That's the code; there couldn't be a mistake. Now what,' Masters said in a flat voice, 'one of our people.... 'Evening, sir,' somebody whispered, from the foot of the steps. 'I thought it was your voice.'
Masters got him up and into the passage. He was, as the light showed, a thin, wiry, nervous young man, with an intelligent face which caught you with its student-like earnestness. His soaked hat hung down grotesquely, and he wiped' his face with a soaked handkerchief.
'Hul-lo,' grunted Masters, 'so it's you, Bert? Ha. Gentlemen, this is Detective-Sergeant McDonnell.' He became indulgent. 'He does the same sort of work I used to. But Bert here's a university man; one of our new kind) and ambitious. You may have seen his name in the paper - he's looking for that lost dagger.' He added sharply: 'Well, Bert? What is it? You can speak out.'
'Hunch of mine, sir,' the other answered respectfully. Continuing to wipe his face, he regarded the inspector through narrowed eyes. 'I'll tell you about it in a minute. That rain's filthy, and I've been out there for two hours. I-I suppose I don't have to tell you, sir, that your-your
'Now, then,' Masters said curtly. 'Now, then. If you want promotion, my lad, you stick to your superior officers. Eh?' After this somewhat mysterious pronouncement he wheezed a moment, and went on: 'Stepley told me you'd been sent to get a line on Darworth months ago, and, when I heard you were looking into that dagger business---'
'You put two and two together. Yes, Sir.'
Masters peered of him. 'Exactly. Exactly. I can use you, my lad. I've got work for you. But first I want facts, and want 'em quick. You've seen the little stone house, eh? What's the lay-out?'
'One good-sized room. Roughly oblong shape; stone walls, brick floor. Inside of the roof makes the ceiling. There are four of those little grated windows in the middle of each side, high up. The door is under the window you can see from here....'
'Any way out except the door?'
'No, sir.'
'I mean, any way the man could get out secretly?'
'Not a chance, sir. That' is, I don't think.... Besides, he couldn't get out the door, either. They padlocked it. He asked them to padlock it on the outside.'
'Doesn't mean anything. Yes; it means hanky-panky. I wish I could have got a look inside. What about the chimney?'
'I looked into all that,' McDonnell answered. He tried to keep from giving a jerk with the cold. 'There's an iron grating in the chimney just over the fireplace. The gratings in the windows are solid in the stone, and you couldn't get a lead-pencil through the openings. Also, I heard Darworth drop the bar inside the door.... Excuse me, sir. Your questions: I suppose your idea is the same as mine?'
'About Darworth trying to get out?'
'No, sir,' replied McDonnell quietly. 'About something or somebody trying to get in.'
Instinctively we all turned in the dark, to look at the ugly little house where the light was changing and writhing and inviting. The cross-barred grating of that little window-scarcely a foot square-was silhouetted in strong outline as the firelight loomed on it inside. And, just for a moment, a head was silhouetted there too. It seemed to be peering out from behind the grating.
There was no reason for the shock of horror that struck me, and made my muscles watery. There was no reason why Darworth, if he were a tall man, should not stand on a chair and look out of the window. But the silhouetted head moved slowly, as though it had trouble with its neck....
I doubt that any of the others saw it, for the fire-glow had died away, and Masters was speaking harshly. I did not hear all of it, but he was giving McDonnell a dressing-down as a weak-kneed something'd something who had got himself impressed by the damned tomfoolery of -
'Excuse me, sir.' McDonnell was still respectful, but I think the tone of his voice had some effect. 'Would you like to hear my story? About why I'm here?'
'Come along,' said Masters curtly. 'Away from here. I'll take your word for it that he's padlocked in. That is, I'll go and see for myself in a minute. Urn, don't misunderstand, now, lad !'
He took us a little way down the passage, threw his light into a door at random, and motioned us in. It was part of an ancient kitchen. McDonnell had taken off his shapeless hat and was lighting a cigarette. His sharp greenish eyes glanced at Halliday and me over the match flame.
'They're all right,' said Masters; he did not mention our names.
'It happened,' McDonnell went on, rather jerkily, 'just a week ago tonight, and it was the first real progress I'd made. You see, I was sent to get a line on Darworth last July; but I didn't get anything. He might be an impostor, but - '
'We know all that.'
'Yes, sir.' McDonnell stopped a moment. 'But the business fascinated me. Especially Darworth. I think you know how it is, Inspector. I spent a good deal of time collecting Darworth information, looking over the house, and even asking for leads from people - people I used to know. But they couldn't help me. Darworth would open his mouth about psychical research only to a small, closed circle. They were all filthily rich people, by the way. And several friends of mine, who knew him and said he was a poisonous blighter, didn't even know he was interested in spiritualism. Well, you can see how it was....
'I'd almost forgotten the business when I accidentally ran into a fellow I used to know at school; quite a good friend of mine. I hadn't seen him in a long time. We went to lunch, and he immediately began babbling about spiritualism. Latimer, his name is: Ted Latimer.
'Even at school Ted had been inclined in that direction, though there was nothing much dreamy about him: he was as neat a center-forward as I ever saw. But when he was fifteen he got hold of one of the wrong kind of Conan Doyle books, and used to try to put himself into trances. My hobby was parlor magic, like yours, so maybe that's how. . . . Excuse me. When I met him last week, he pounced on me.
'He went on telling me about an amazing medium a friend of his had discovered, and Darworth was the friend. Now, I didn't tell him I was in the force. I felt pretty rotten about it afterwards; it was a dirty trick, in a way; but I wanted to see Darworth in action. So I argued with him, and asked whether I could meet this paragon. He said Darworth didn't meet people, ordinarily - didn't like them to know his interests - all that. But Darworth was going to be at a little dinner, next night, given by a friend of Ted's aunt, named Featherton. He thought he might be able to get me invited. So a week ago tonight I went..'
McDonnell's cigarette glowed and darkened. He seemed oddly hesitant. Masters said:
'Get on with it. You mean for a demonstration?'
'Oh, no. Nothing of the kind. The medium wasn't there. Which reminds me, sir. In my opinion, that idiot `Joseph' is only Darworth's - what do theycall it
? - front. The little devil gets on my nerves, but I don't believe he knows what goes on. I think his trances are drug-trances, induced by Darworth; that maybe the moron believes he is a medium. He's a sort of dummy to take any blame, while Darworth produces his own phenomena.... Masters nodded heavily. 'Ah! That's good, my lad. If that's true, it's something tangible to fasten our man with. I don't believe it, except maybe about the drugs, but if so.... Good! Go on.'
'Just a moment, Sergeant,' I put in. 'A few minutes ago, out there, anybody would have gathered from what
