Prudence dictated that Jack Everson should not linger another moment.  Indeed, he ought to have counted himself fortunate that he had made his discovery in time to save himself from running into a trap.  He should return to his friends with the alarming news and help them in getting away with the utmost haste possible.  But Jack did nothing of the sort.

The chief cause of his lingering was his desire to obtain the revolver belonging to Miss Marlowe.  Recalling the paucity of firearms among the people on the boat he felt that a single weapon could be ill spared.  But above and beyond this cold truth was a vague, shuddering suspicion, amounting to a belief, that the young woman would soon need that very weapon; that, without it she would become another of the unspeakable victims of the fiends who made the Sepoy Mutiny one of the most hideous blots that darken the pages of history.  He compressed his lips and swore that the revolver should be recovered, if the thing were possible, failing in which he would compel her to take his own.

The first thing was to learn whether there was more than one person in the house and what business had brought them there.  His own return was not expected, so that that advantage was in his favor.  He stepped lightly upon the veranda and, like a burglar in his stocking feet, passed across the porch and pushed back the door far enough to admit him.  This required but a few inches, and the hinges gave out not the slightest creak.  The entrance to the dining-room was closed, so that all was darkness, but he plainly saw the yellow thread along the edges of the door, caused by the lamp in the room beyond.

Once within the hall he listened intently, but could not detect the slightest sound within the building.  He had already drawn his revolver, and held it ready for instant use.  Knowing the value of seconds, he began moving along the hall toward the door, which was only a few paces distant, and had passed half the space when a muttered execration escaped him, for his foot struck some object that was kicked the remaining length of the hall with a clatter that he verily believed must have been heard by his friends on the boat.

No use now for precaution.  Determined to have the other weapon, but not unmindful of the peril involved, he strode the few remaining steps and hastily shoved open the door of the dining-room.  If a foe was there with the revolver he was quite likely to hold it levelled at the intruder, because of which Jack, when he burst into the room, held his own weapon pointed, so as to prevent any enemy from “getting the drop” on him.

For one moment the young man believed it was all a mistake and that, despite the precaution taken upon leaving the house, he had not extinguished the lamp, whose wick had recovered its vigor, but the suspicion was hardly formed when he knew there was no foundation for it.  In the first place no lamp ever acts that way, and, the front door having been closed, could not open of itself.  More convincing than all was the fact that Mary Marlowe’s revolver, which had brought him back, was missing.