The room opposite was even less completely furnished, and it was also tenantless. He knew that there was no space between the ceiling and the roof to conceal any but a willing fugitive, and satisfied himself with the briefest of scrutinies. The other wing of the house was scarcely habitable; in some places the sky showed through the gaps in the roof, and all the upper floors were rotten with storm-water and would hardly bear the weight of a child. “Where does that lead?” asked Michael when he came out from the inspection of the lower floor of the old wing. He pointed to a flight of steps that terminated in a door. “It is a cellar of some kind; you can go in,” said the other carelessly. Michael pushed the door open and stepped into a little apartment. A certain amount of light and air was admitted through a small grating that had been let into the wall, but there was little of either. Other light or ventilation there was none, except for the spy-hole in the door. He flashed his lamp around, saw an old bed in one corner and a washstand. He walked to the bed, turned over the folded blankets, and then came into the daylight. “Quite an airy apartment,” he said drily. “Is this for a patient too?” “There is many a poor fellow sleeping out at night who would be glad of that room,” said Dr. Tappatt virtuously, and Michael showed his teeth for a moment in an unpleasant smile. “Ever been in prison, Tappatt? I don’t think you have, have you?” he asked, as he ascended the steps again. Nobody knew better than Michael Dorn that the doctor had escaped conviction, but it was his way of giving a warning. “I have not had that distinction.” “Yet,” finished Dorn. “The cells of Dartmoor are much more wholesome than this black hole of yours--as you will find. Plenty of fresh air, immense quantities of light--and the food is good.” Tappatt licked his lips but made no answer. “What is in here?” He stopped before a locked shed. “A motor-car belonging to a friend of mine. Do you want to see it?” “A blue Buick, by any chance?” “Yes, I think it is a Buick.” “Left here the night before last, I think?” Tappatt smiled and shook his head. “It has been here a week. There are times when you are just a little too clever.” “Let me see it,” said Michael. The doctor went back to the house for keys, whilst Michael made a rapid inspection of the remaining buildings. The two dogs broke into a fury at his approach, straining at their chains until it seemed that they must choke or the leashes break. Then the doctor returned and found Dorn contemplating the back gate with absorbed interest; the ground was hard and showed no footmark--even the car had left no tracks. “Here is a key.” “I don’t think I want to see the car,” said Dorn slowly. “I know it rather well and the owner more than a little.” He looked round. “I don’t see your housekeeper anywhere.” “I expect she’s gone into the village to do her marketing,” said the other.