Without so much as by your leave Delehanty strode into the room with three of his men at his heels. The chief was chewing an extinct cigar which smelled vilely. Pen choked with rage. She bit her lips to keep back an outburst. Her father went to her, and squeezed her hand imploringly. The three men spread around the room like well-trained dogs. One could imagine them sniffing. They were armed with electric torches with which to illumine dark corners. Delehanty went direct to the door into the rear room and rattled it. "What's behind here?" he demanded. "Another bed room," said Pen. "The guest-room." "Guest-room?" sneered Delehanty. "Where's the key?" "The door has been locked for many years. I couldn't tell you." "Well what's the door from that room into the hall doing locked?" "Because I keep certain things of value in there. I don't want the servants to go in." Pen's father must have wondered at this answer. But perhaps he was too confused to take in what she was saying. At any rate he kept quiet. "Is that key lost too?" sneered Delehanty. "No," said Pen calmly. "It's among the other keys on the rack in my sewing-room. My father will get it for you." Pendleton trotted obediently away with his candle. When he came back with it Delehanty's sleuths had completed their search of Pen's room. The whole party passed around through the hall to the door of the guest-room. The men showed excitement. They thought they had their man. Delehanty flung the door open and stepped back. He ordered his men to cast the light of their electric torches inside. This was to draw the fire of the supposed occupant. Pen's lip curled. Finally the men ventured across the threshold. The acetylene lantern filled the great bare chamber with light. It was meagerly furnished, a gigantic bedroom set of the carved walnut period, the bed with an old-fashioned mosquito bar, an air-tight stove, an humble little rocking-chair. The great expanse of white wall was guiltless of paper or tint, and showed long fine cracks running in every direction like the map of a complicated river system. The floor was covered with matting. Delehanty sniffed. "The air is fresh. There's been a window open in here." Pen's heart contracted. "The room is aired every day," she said quickly. Delehanty went to the window in the corner. The two windows at the side of the room were shuttered on the outside. He cast his light along the sill. "There's no dust here," he said accusingly. "There's no dust anywhere in my house," said Pen. Delehanty commanded the window to be opened. The acetylene light was held outside. This was the crucial moment. Pen held her breath. "What is there?" asked Delehanty. "Eighteen or twenty foot drop, sir." "Any gutter pipe or lightning rod?" "No, sir." "Close the window." Pen breathed again.