“There’s nobody on this floor, I think,” he whispered. “But we’ll give a look round on the chance, sor. ’Tis a bad thing to lave any one at the back av ye, to cut off yer retrate maybe.” We crept along the hall, peering into darkness that was, as I knew, drawing-room, dining-room, morning-room and study. But they were all deserted. We knew that there was some one in the house, in all probability, because of the light we had seen from the front. But evidently we had not many people to deal with, at any rate. As before, we halted, listening, at the foot of the stairs which led up to the next floor. It was well after midnight by now and the street outside, and indeed the whole city, had grown quiet, but in spite of the stillness we could hear no sound from above. “Come on, sor,” whispered Larry, and hand in hand we crept up the thickly carpeted stairs, keeping close to the wall where the steps were less likely to creak. And as we advanced the black darkness that was the upper hall seemed to creep down and envelop us like an intangible cloud. But in spite of the sinister element with which my imagination endowed the darkness, the bedrooms, bathrooms and the library on that floor also were silent and untenanted. And with the urge of a growing impatience to have done with our search and be gone, we mounted another well-carpeted flight as silently as before. As our heads topped this floor level, Larry’s hand gripped my arm suddenly. A thin line of light glowed from beneath a door a little way up the hall, toward the front of the house. Larry brought his lips close to my ear again. “’Tis the light we saw from the front, sor!” he whispered, so softly that I only just caught the words. “We’ll creep up and listen, try the handle and then, maybe, fling open the door. You’ll be ready, sor?” I pressed his arm in assent and Larry started to lead the way down the hall. Then another plan occurred to me. I caught his arm and leaned close to him. “How about searching the rest of the house first?” I whispered. The recollection was still vivid of the way I had messed up the affair in Moore’s house, by walking into a trap, and I thought it would be as well to know whether there were others besides the inhabitants of that one room. My idea was based on reason which was well enough, I thought, but again Larry’s instinct was better. He turned back, however, and we went through the rooms on the top floor above, without finding anything or any one. Then we descended and went through the rooms on that floor. The last one, next to the room with the light, had another door leading into it, beneath which the light showed, and it was in this room that Larry had the bad luck to fall over a small footstool, making a noise which a person in the next room could not fail to hear if he or she were awake. He had fallen to one knee, but he got up again quickly, smothering a curse, and we stood waiting tensely in the darkness.