"Time will prove the correctness of some of my theories, at least," replied his mentor, "and I shall be better able to talk when I've seen the marriage register. Now let's have something to drink, and go to bed;" and he pressed the bell. An interval having elapsed without an answer, he rang again, but no servant appeared. "It must be later than I thought. We'll have to shift for ourselves. There'll be something going in the billiard-room." "Hark!" said Stanley. "There's somebody in the hall; it's probably the butler shutting up for the night." They both listened, and a peculiar, shuffling, scraping sound became audible. "That's a curious noise," said the Secretary. "Let's see what it means," and, suiting the action to the word, he threw open the smoking-room door. The light in the hall was turned out, and the sombre black oak panelling made the great apartment seem darker than it really was. Absolute stillness reigned. It was, to all appearance, empty. "Must have been rats," said the Secretary. "Everyone seems to have retired." "Have they?" said Kent-Lauriston. "Listen!" And both could have sworn that they heard, far up the hall, the dying rustle of a skirt. But there were some things that Stanley had no wish to know, and he set his face and his steps towards the stairs, continuing:-- "As I was saying, we are the only people up. "Then we'd better go to bed." "By all means." "Shall I turn out the electric lights in the smoking-room?" "Yes, we're evidently the last." A moment later they stood on the upper landing about to separate for the night. "The woman was behind that screen at the foot of the stairs," said Kent-Lauriston. "Yes, I know," replied the Secretary. "Good-night, my dear Stanley." "Good-night, old man. You possess a rare talent." "Yes?" "You know when not to ask questions." CHAPTER XXVI FACE TO FACE When Kent-Lauriston had disappeared in his bedroom, and closed the door, the Secretary, extinguishing his own candle, turned on his heel, and walked slowly back to the head of the stairs. It was easy to preserve an unruffled demeanour before his friend, but he was far from being as calm as he appeared. All was not right in the house, he knew. Some mischief was afoot, and he meant to find out what it was, even though he dared not admit to himself some of the possibilities which it suggested.