Pendleton saw the pad drop from Locke’s hands; he saw the mute wheel as he felt the vibrations and stare at the window, his eyes puckered and straining.  He also saw Miss Vale rise, saw her hands thrown out in a gesture much like despair; and also he heard the cry that she uttered, muffled by the confines of the room, but full of fear.  Then the room was plunged into darkness; an instant later a door was heard to open; the sound of quick-moving feet came to him; there followed the pulsations of a motor and the racing of a car away into the night.

“She’s off,” breathed the young man, and there was undoubted relief in the knowledge.  “She’s off, and I really believe that’s what Kirk was after.”

He walked toward the house and found his friend standing in the shadows.

“Well,” chuckled the investigator, “it did not take her long to make up her mind, eh?”

“You had some motive in doing that,” accused Pendleton.  “What was it?”

Ashton-Kirk was about to reply; but just then the small figure of Locke made its appearance.  He carried a lantern and was approaching with stumbling steps, his eyes peering and blinking in their efforts to pierce the gloom.  Not until he was well upon the two did he make them out; then he halted, lifted the light above his head and surveyed them intently.

In the rays of the lantern Ashton-Kirk smiled urbanely, and bowed.  The supple fingers of the mute writhed inquiringly.

“Each of them forms itself into a wild note of interrogation,” said Pendleton.  “They are fairly screaming questions at you.”

Ashton-Kirk smiled even more agreeably at Locke and shook his head.  Then he went through the pantomime of one writing, and finished by pointing to the house.

Carefully, eagerly, fearfully, the mute examined them; his near-sighted eyes and the wavering light must have made it all but impossible for him to make them out.  However, he at length motioned for them to follow him, and started back by the way which he had come.  But after a few steps he halted.  He indicated that they were to remain where they were; then he went to the shed-like building, closed the door and locked it, placing the key in his pocket.

“It would seem,” observed Ashton-Kirk, “that we are not to be trusted implicitly.”

“Also,” replied Pendleton, “that there is something of value in the shed.”

Returning, Locke led the way to a door upon the other side of the house.  Showing them into a small room furnished with books and scientific apparatus and evidently a study, he set down the lantern and with a sign bade them be seated.  Upon their doing so he produced a small pad of paper and a pencil; handing these to Ashton-Kirk he stood peering at them expectantly.  With the swift, accurate touch of an expert, the investigator wrote in the Pitman shorthand: 

“We ask pardon if we have startled you.”

Then he tore off the sheet and handed it to Professor Locke.  The man seemed surprised at the medium selected by his visitor; nevertheless he quickly traced the following in the same characters.