With the closing of the door, the sounds from the stairs had ceased to reach them.  There was a long pause; Pendleton, during this, grew sensible of a long, wavering mental antenna which he projected into the shadows; and its delicate sensitiveness told him of the silent approach of a fearful thing.  A long, long time, it seemed to him, but in reality it was remarkably brief.

Then the steps were heard, shuffling and secret, in the hall and very near at hand.  A soft, uncertain touch fell upon the smooth glass of the door; down its length the inquiring fingers traveled; then the handle was tried, held a moment and quietly released.

The steps then receded lightly down the hall.

For some moments all was quiet, then there came the scratch of a match from the hall, and its accompanying flare, seen through the glass of the door.  A little space more, and a rending sound came to their ears, followed by the falling of some metallic objects upon the floor.  Pendleton required no explanation of these sounds; it was plain that the second intruder had come prepared and had forced one of the doors.

All the communicating doors of the suite had been left open; through them came the pushing about of furniture and the drawing down of blinds; then another match flared, followed by a stronger and steadier light, which showed that the second visitor had lighted the gas.  The light filtered palely through the various rooms into the one in which the two men and the woman were hidden; by means of this the former could make the latter out in a dim, uncertain sort of way.  She seemed unusually tall as she moved noiselessly across the floor and peered cautiously through the communicating doorways.

[Illustration:  WHAT SHE SAW MUST HAVE STARTLED HER]

What she saw must have startled her, for she drew quickly back, her hand pressed to her heart.  Then softly she retraced her steps; they heard the door-catch slip quietly back and were conscious that the door was swung open; the woman then crept inch by inch, so it seemed, down the hall.

It was the bedroom door that had been forced; the two watchers noted the bar of light that slanted from it across the passage.  Nearer and nearer the woman approached to it.  Pendleton had at first thought that she was making for the stairs; but this died away as she passed them, unheeding.  The automatic revolver was in his hand instantly; leaning toward his friend, he breathed in his ear.

“She’s going in there.”

The blanket slipped from him as he arose to his feet; his legs were still cramped and stiffened; he felt clumsy and unsure.  Ashton-Kirk evidently agreed that the time had come for action, for he whispered in reply: 

“Through the rooms!  I will take the hall!”

Pendleton stepped from behind the screen like a shadow.  Through the door leading to the storeroom he had an uninterrupted view of a part of the bedroom; and across the floor he saw thrown the shadow of a man.  Noiselessly he tip-toed into the kitchen, the revolver held ready; just outside the bedroom he paused, and drawing to one side, waited.  Then he noted the shadow move slightly, and heard a deep rumbling voice say in French: