I was roused by hearing Mr. Jamieson coming rapidly back through the
drawing-room. He stopped at the door.
"Miss Innes," he said quickly, "will you come with me and light the
east corridor? I have fastened somebody in the small room at the head
of the card-room stairs."
I jumped! up at once.
"You mean--the murderer?" I gasped.
"Possibly," he said quietly, as we hurried together up the stairs.
"Some one was lurking on the staircase when I went back. I spoke;
instead of an answer, whoever it was turned and ran up. I followed--it
was dark--but as I turned the corner at the top a figure darted through
this door and closed it. The bolt was on my side, and I pushed it
forward. It is a closet, I think." We were in the upper hall now.
"If you will show me the electric switch, Miss Innes, you would better
wait in your own room."
Trembling as I was, I was determined to see that door opened. I hardly
knew what I feared, but so many terrible and inexplicable things had
happened that suspense was worse than certainty.
"I am perfectly cool," I said, "and I am going to remain here."
The lights flashed up along that end of the corridor, throwing the
doors into relief. At the intersection of the small hallway with the
larger, the circular staircase wound its way up, as if it had been an
afterthought of the architect. And just around the corner, in the
small corridor, was the door Mr. Jamieson had indicated. I was still
unfamiliar with the house, and I did not remember the door. My heart
was thumping wildly in my ears, but I nodded to him to go ahead. I was
perhaps eight or ten feet away--and then he threw the bolt back.
"Come out," he said quietly. There was no response. "Come--out," he
repeated. Then--I think he had a revolver, but I am not sure--he
stepped aside and threw the door open.
From where I stood I could not see beyond the door, but I saw Mr.
Jamieson's face change and heard him mutter something, then he bolted
down the stairs, three at a time. When my knees had stopped shaking, I
moved forward, slowly, nervously, until I had a partial view of what
was beyond the door. It seemed at first to be a closet, empty. Then I
went close and examined it, to stop with a shudder. Where the floor
should have been was black void and darkness, from which came the
indescribable, damp smell of the cellars.
Mr. Jamieson had locked somebody in the clothes chute. As I leaned
over I fancied I heard a groan--or was it the wind?