Even as Percy Guest rushed at his friend's door to bring one foot against the lock with all his might, he felt the futility of the proceeding. For he knew how solid the old oak outer panels had been made; but he did not pause, and as his foot struck against it there was a dull sound--nothing more. Guest drew back again, fully impressed by the hopelessness of his proceedings, for the outer door opened toward him, and the effect of his next thrust was only to drive it against the jamb. He was recoiling again, with his muscles quivering from the violence of his efforts, when Miss Jerrold caught his arm. "Mr Guest," she said firmly, "this is madness. You will bring a crowd of people about us, and only workmen could open that door." Guest hesitated a moment or two. "Stop!" he said. "His friend, Mr Brettison, is in the next chambers, perhaps. I'll go and see." "Come, Rebecca," said the admiral scornfully; "we have no business here." He held out his arm, but his sister thrust it away. "Yes; we have business here," she said. "If, as Mr Guest suspects, some accident has befallen Malcolm Stratton, would you care to meet Myra without having been there?" She whispered this to her brother while Guest had gone to Brettison's door, at which he knocked sharply. The admiral turned fiercely upon his sister, but she did not shrink. "You know it's right," she said. "Be reasonable, Mark. Malcolm Stratton could not have insulted us all like this." "I can't make him hear," said Guest, after a second sharp summons at Brettison's door. "I must fetch up a carpenter and make him force open this door." "You have no right to proceed to such violent measures, Mr Guest." "Then I shall assume the right, sir. I believe that my friend lies behind that door wounded or murdered for the sake of the money he had ready for his wedding trip, and do you think I am going to stand on punctilio at a time like this?" Miss Jerrold looked very white and faint as she said quietly: "He is quite right, Mark." "Get workmen, then, in Heaven's name, sir, or the police." Guest took a step toward the stairs, but turned again. "I don't like the _expose_, sir," he said sharply. "There might be reasons why I should repent going." "But you must have that door opened at once," cried Sir Mark, now once more growing excited, as if Guest's manner were contagious. Guest drew his hand over the door in search of a hold to try and drag it toward him, ending by thrusting it in by the letter slit and giving it a vigorous shake. He withdrew it, shaking his head, and paused, for steps were heard. But they passed the doorway at the bottom of the building and died away, while, as he listened, all seemed to be silent upstairs and down. "We must have a carpenter," he said aloud; and, once more placing his ear to the letter slit, he listened, and then came away to where Sir Mark stood.