He tested the drawers to make sure that he had relocked them securely. He knew Rupert Bateman’s powers of minute observation and glanced round the room to make sure that he had left no incriminating trace of his presence.
“That’s that,” he muttered to himself softly. “Nothing there. Well, perhaps I’ll have better luck tomorrow morning—if the girls only play up.”
He came out of the study, closing the door behind him and locking it. For a moment he thought he heard a sound quite near him, but decided he had been mistaken. He felt his way noiselessly along the great hall. Just enough light came from the high vaulted windows to enable him to pick his way without stumbling into anything.
Again he heard a soft sound—he heard it quite certainly this time and without the possibility of making a mistake. He was not alone in the hall. Somebody else was there, moving as stealthily as he was. His heart beat suddenly very fast.
With a sudden spring he jumped to the electric switch and turned on the lights. The sudden glare made him blink—but he saw plainly enough. Not four feet away stood Rupert Bateman.
“My goodness, Pongo,” cried Jimmy, “you did give me a start. Slinking about like that in the dark.”
“I heard a noise,” explained Mr. Bateman severely. “I thought burglars had got in and I came down to see.”
Jimmy looked thoughtfully at Mr. Bateman’s rubber-soled feet.
“You think of everything, Pongo,” he said genially. “Even a lethal weapon.”
His eye rested on the bulge in the other’s pocket.