For at last I had
recognized the voice of this midnight runner. Throwing open the door,
I held out my hand and the shabby-looking man extended his in return.
"_Gatton!"_ I cried excitedly. "Gatton! What on earth does this mean?
Why have you been masquerading in this fashion? I saw you here this
morning and you never gave me the slightest sign of acknowledgment!"
"I never intended to!" panted the Inspector, staggering rather than
walking up the stairs. "But I have performed one of the hardest tasks
of my life to-night and have only succeeded by a few seconds!"
We were now at the door of my room, but:
"Don't go in!" said Gatton shortly. "Let me think what we must do."
"But I don't understand at all!"
"You will understand in a moment!" was the grim reply. "You would have
understood already if you had lighted your candle."
Words failed me altogether. At that we stood in the passage for some
moments in silence; then:
"We have got to risk it," said Gatton, "if my theory is to be put to
the test"
"Risk it?"
"Oh! I can assure you of the risk," he declared. "It will be
touch-and-go. Are you game?"
"Well," I said, laughing in a very forced fashion, "this has been a
night of such intense surprises that I think I can survive one more."
"Very well," replied the Inspector; and there was something strange in
hearing the familiar voice and dimly discerning in the reflected
moonlight, which shone in at a window further along the passage, the
unfamiliar figure before me.
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