"
The instant I had said it I was convinced I had hit on the
explanation, and that perhaps it was already too late. It seemed
to me as I listened that I heard stealthy footsteps on the east
porch, but there was so much shouting outside that it was
impossible to tell. Liddy was on the point of retreat.
"Very well," I said, "then I shall go down alone. Run back to
Mr. Halsey's room and get his revolver. Don't shoot down the
stairs if you hear a noise: remember--I shall be down there. And
hurry."
I put the candle on the floor at the top of the staircase and
took off my bedroom slippers. Then I crept down the stairs,
going very slowly, and listening with all my ears. I was keyed
to such a pitch that I felt no fear: like the condemned who sleep
and eat the night before execution, I was no longer able to
suffer apprehension. I was past that. Just at the foot of the
stairs I stubbed my toe against Halsey's big chair, and had to
stand on one foot in a soundless agony until the pain subsided to
a dull ache. And then--I knew I was right. Some one had put a
key into the lock, and was turning it. For some reason it
refused to work, and the key was withdrawn. There was a
muttering of voices outside: I had only a second. Another trial,
and the door would open. The candle above made a faint
gleam down the well-like staircase, and at that moment, with a
second, no more, to spare, I thought of a plan.
The heavy oak chair almost filled the space between the newel
post and the door.
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