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"You have, as his nearest friend and neighbour."
"No, no, no," said Stratton uneasily.
"I tell you it's right," said Guest. "We'll go to the station quietly, give notice, and a couple of men will come, and bring a locksmith or carpenter to open the door."
"Impossible! The publicity: it would be horrible."
"If we found the old fellow lying dead there, yes. But he may not be."
"No, he may not be, so it cannot be done," said Stratton with an unwonted animation which made Guest the more eager.
"But it can."
"I say no," said Stratton angrily.
"But I say yes."
"You have no right, no business whatever, to interfere in the matter. I will not have Mr Brettison's place broken open and his things disturbed. It shall not be done."
"Bravo," thought Guest; "a little more argument of this sort would bring him round." And full of determination, right or wrong, to persevere he said distinctly:
"Look here, Stratton, have you any special reason for refusing to listen to my words?"
"I--I--a reason?" cried Stratton looking startled. "None whatever."
"Oh! You seemed so stubborn."
"The natural feeling of a scientific man against intruders meddling with his study."
"Mr Brettison made no objection to your breaking in upon him when he was dangerously ill and would have died without your help."
Stratton was silenced for the moment, but he broke out directly with:
"But I am sure he has not been back."
"How can you be, away as you have been so long?"
"I should have heard him or seen him. He would have come in to me."
"Look here, Stratton," said Guest at last, "if you oppose my wishes so strongly, I shall think that you have some special reason for it."
Stratton's eyes contracted a little as he looked fixedly at his friend.
"I shall not oppose you, then," he said, after moistening his lips, as if speaking was an effort. "Have the place examined."
"I will," cried Guest eagerly. "Come on with me to the police-station, and let's give information."
Stratton shrank back in his seat.
"No, no. Speak to the people at the lodge; the man can open the door."
"No; I am not going to have the matter spread abroad. And I do not accept the responsibility. No hesitation now; come on."
Stratton was so weakened by ill health and nervous shock that, in spite of himself, he felt compelled to yield, and ten minutes later they were in the cold, formal station, where he felt as if in a dream, held there against his will, and listening while Guest told the inspector on duty his suspicions as if they were those of his neighbour Stratton, who, of course, was not sure, only uneasy, and desirous of quietly learning whether, by any possibility, there was something wrong.
"We'll soon see to that, sir," said the inspector quietly, and sending a message by a constable, a sergeant was called into the office, the matter explained to him, and, after a sharp glance at the two strangers, he proposed to call and get Johnson to come with them, as he would be home from work and they could pick him up on the way.
The inspector expressed his approval, and then said:
"I hope, gentlemen, you will find it is all a mistake, for your friend's sake. Good-evening."
As soon as they were outside the sergeant turned to them.
"As you want to make no fuss, gentlemen, and would like the matter kept quiet, suppose you both go on? I'll join you in ten minutes with my man. People may notice it, if we all go together."
Guest nodded, and they separated. Then a cab was called, and Stratton's chambers once more reached.
Here the latter grew strangely excited, and began to protest against the proceedings.
"Look here," said Guest warmly, "if I had had any doubt about its being right, I should go on now."
"Why?" cried Stratton wonderingly.
"Because the excitement of another's trouble or suffering is rousing you up, old fellow, and making you seem something like what you were of old."
Stratton caught him by the arm, and was about to insist upon the plan being given up, when there was a sharp rap at the door, and Guest caught up candle and matches and led the way out on to the landing, followed by Stratton, who looked as if he were in a dream.
The sergeant was outside with a man of the regular carpenter cla.s.s, with a bag swung over his shoulder by a hammer pa.s.sed through the handles.
"Here we are, gentlemen," said the police officer. "Candle? Shan't want it, sir; I have a lantern, and it will be handier. You wish it all to be done quietly, you say, but I'm afraid our friend here will make a little noise with his tools. People downstairs will hear."
"They are only offices below," said Guest.
"Upstairs, then?"
"No one there in the evening."
"That's right then, sir. Which is the door?"
At a word from Guest, Stratton moved across the landing and turned down the pa.s.sage in which Brettison's doorway stood, moving still in the same dreamy fas.h.i.+on, as his friend's will forced him to act, and as they reached the doorway the sergeant turned on his lantern, so that the light played about the keyhole.
"Now, Jem," he said, "have a look at it. What do you say?"
The man slouched up, and the shadow of his head, with its closely fitting cap, glided about on the door, as he turned from side to side to get a good look at the little opening.
"Light more this way, matey," he growled, in an ill-used tone. "That'll do. Steady, please. I don't want to look at the 'inges."
"There you are, then. Well, is it a pick? or a saw-out?"