Mr Kay had made certain by two separate
trials that that door had been locked. And now it was wide open. Ergo,
the apostle of the jemmy and the skeleton key must still be in the
house. Mr Kay, secure in the recollection that burglars never show
fight if they can possibly help it, determined to search the house.
Fenn made up his mind swiftly. There was no time to finish dressing.
Mr Kay, peering round, might note the absence of the rest of his
clothes from their accustomed pegs if he got into bed as he was. There
was only one thing to be done. He threw back the bed-clothes, ruffled
the sheets till the bed looked as if it had been slept in, and opened
the door just as Mr Kay reached the threshold.
"Anything the matter, sir?" asked Fenn, promptly. "I heard a noise
downstairs. Can I help you?"
Mr Kay looked carefully at the ex-head of his house. Fenn was a
finely-developed youth. He stood six feet, and all of him that was not
bone was muscle. A useful colleague to have by one in a hunt for a
possibly ferocious burglar.
So thought Mr Kay.
"So _you_ heard the noise?" he said. "Well, perhaps you had
better come with me. There is no doubt that a burglar has entered the
house tonight, in spite of the fact that I locked all the windows
myself. Your study window was unlocked, Fenn. It was extremely
careless of you to leave it in such a condition, and I hope you will
be more careful in future.
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