He consulted his own watch.

“Very well, Mrs. Pendleton,” he assented.  “I will accompany you.  Please excuse me while I get my coat.”

He rejoined them in a moment or two, and they proceeded outside to the waiting car.

CHAPTER IX

A few minutes later the car stopped in the gloom outside the old house on the cliffs.  The storm had passed, but the sea still raged white beneath an inky sky.  A faint gleam from a shuttered front window pointed a finger of light to the gravel path which led to the front door.

Mrs. Pendleton knocked, and an answer came quickly.  The door was partly opened, and Thalassa’s voice from within parleyed:  “Who’s there?”

“Mrs. Pendleton—­your master’s sister,” was the reply.  “Let us in, Thalassa.”

The door was at once opened wide, and Thalassa stood back for them to enter.  By the light of the lamp he carried they saw that he was dressed and coated for a journey, with his hat on.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said to Dr. Ravenshaw.  “It’s you I was just going out to fetch.”

There was something strange in his manner, and the doctor looked at him quickly.  “What’s the matter with you, man?  Is there anything wrong?”

“That’s what I don’t know.  But I’m afeered, yes, by God, I’m afeered.”

His voice broke hoarsely, and he stood before them with his eyes averted from the three wondering faces regarding him.  Mrs. Pendleton stepped quickly forward, and grasped his arm.

“What is it, Thalassa?  Has anything happened to my brother?”

“There’s been a great noise in his room, like as if something heavy had crashed down, then silence like the grave.  I went up and called—­an’ tried to open the door, but I couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you try to break in the door?” said Dr. Ravenshaw.

“Tweren’t my place,” was the dogged retort.  “I know my place.  I was just going to St. Fair for you and his brother.”

“How long is it since this happened—­since you heard the crash, I mean.”

“Not many minutes agone.  Just before you came to the door.”

“Light us upstairs at once, Thalassa,” said Mrs. Pendleton sharply.

“Mrs. Pendleton, will you wait downstairs while we investigate?” suggested Dr. Ravenshaw.

“No,” she resolutely answered.  “I will come with you, doctor.  Robert may need me.  Do not let us waste any more time.”

She slipped past him to Thalassa, who was mounting the stairs.  Dr. Ravenshaw hurried after her.  Mr. Pendleton, with an obvious call on his courage, followed last.  The lamp in Thalassa’s hand burnt unsteadily, first flaming angrily, then flickering to a glimmer which brought them to a pause, one above the other on the stairs, listening intently, and looking into the darkness above.

“His bedroom is open and empty,” said Thalassa when they had reached the end of the passage above.  “See!” He pointed to the gaping door, and then turned to the closed one opposite.  “He’s in here.”  His voice sank to a whisper.  “It was from here the noise came.”