There, too, was
the stick and umbrella stand and the shelf with railway guides,
directory, and telegraph forms. Clocks ticked everywhere with sounds
like quiet footfalls. Light fell here and there in patches from the
floor above. I stood a moment in the hall, letting my eyes grow more
accustomed to the gloom, while deciding on a plan of search. I made out
the ivy trailing outside over one of the big windows ... and then the
tall clock by the front door made a grating noise deep down inside its
body--it was the Presentation clock, large and hideous, given by the
congregation of his church--and, dreading the booming strike it seemed
to threaten, I made a quick decision. If others beside myself were about
in the night, the sound of that striking might cover their approach.
So I tiptoed to the right, where the passage led towards the dining
room. In the other direction were the morning- and drawing rooms, both
little used, and various other rooms beyond that had been his, generally
now kept locked. I thought of my sister, waiting upstairs with that
frightened woman for my return. I went quickly, yet stealthily.
And, to my surprise, the door of the dining room was open. It had been
opened.
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