Inspector Gatton will probably
be calling for me."
"Very good. Good-night, sir," said Coates; and performing a smart
about-turn, he walked out of the room.
I went on reading, not in quest of any particular information, but in
that idle mood when one reads anything, interesting or otherwise. For
a time I heard my conscientious batman fastening doors and windows as
was his nightly custom; then the door of his own room closed and I
heard him no more.
When I first became aware of the howling of distant dogs I know not;
but it was with a great start that I was aroused from my semi-reverie
by the ringing of the door-bell. I realized that I had sat much longer
than I had supposed. It was a quarter to one.
Gatton was my first thought; there must be an unexpected development
in the case calling in some way for my services. Coates was a sound
sleeper and evidently had not been awakened by the ringing of the
bell; therefore, arrayed as I was in pajamas, slippers and bath-robe
(for this, during the hot weather was my indoor costume) I walked out
along the little corridor, unbolted the front door and opened it.
A woman stood there.
For a moment I thought foolishly that it was Isobel, and my heart gave
a great leap. But the delusion was instantly dispelled when my visitor
spoke.
Her voice had a totally different tone from that of Isobel--it was a
low, almost caressing voice, with a vaguely husky note in it,
fascinating in a way, yet although I found myself unable to account
for the fact, vaguely uncanny--queer.
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