’Keep in front of me, if you please, Mr Holt, and lead the way to this mysterious apartment in which you claim to have had such a remarkable experience.’

Of me he asked in a whisper,

‘Did you bring a revolver?’

I was startled.

‘A revolver?—­The idea!—­How absurd you are!’

Sydney said something which was so rude—­and so uncalled for!—­ that it was worthy of papa in his most violent moments.

‘I’d sooner be absurd than a fool in petticoats.’  I was so angry that I did not know what to say,—­and before I could say it he went on.  ’Keep your eyes and ears well open; be surprised at nothing you see or hear.  Stick close to me.  And for goodness sake remain mistress of as many of your senses as you conveniently can.’

I had not the least idea what was the meaning of it all.  To me there seemed nothing to make such a pother about.  And yet I was conscious of a fluttering of the heart as if there soon might be something, I knew Sydney sufficiently well to be aware that he was one of the last men in the world to make a fuss without reason,—­ and that he was as little likely to suppose that there was a reason when as a matter of fact there was none.

Mr Holt led the way, as Sydney desired—­or, rather, commanded, to the door of the room which was in front of the house.  The door was closed.  Sydney tapped on a panel.  All was silence.  He tapped again.

‘Anyone in there?’ he demanded.

As there was still no answer, he tried the handle.  The door was locked.

’The first sign of the presence of a human being we have had,—­ doors don’t lock themselves.  It’s just possible that there may have been someone or something about the place, at some time or other, after all.’

Grasping the handle firmly, he shook it with all his might,—­as he had done with the door at the back.  So flimsily was the place constructed that he made even the walls to tremble.

’Within there!—­if anyone is in there!—­if you don’t open this door, I shall.’

There was no response.

So be it!—­I’m going to pursue my wild career of defiance of established law and order, and gain admission in one way, if I can’t in another.’

Putting his right shoulder against the door, he pushed with his whole force.  Sydney is a big man, and very strong, and the door was weak.  Shortly, the lock yielded before the continuous pressure, and the door flew open.  Sydney whistled.

’So!—­It begins to occur to me, Mr Holt, that that story of yours may not have been such pure romance as it seemed.’

It was plain enough that, at any rate, this room had been occupied, and that recently,—­and, if his taste in furniture could be taken as a test, by an eccentric occupant to boot.  My own first impression was that there was someone, or something, living in it still,—­an uncomfortable odour greeted our nostrils, which was suggestive of some evil-smelling animal.  Sydney seemed to share my thought.