Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/277



still waited. But he moved a little, to relieve the ache in his knees. As before, he did so with the utmost care and deliberation, straightening his legs almost imperceptibly, inch by studious inch, moving his stockinged feet out experimentally, tentatively, interrogatively, so there might be no betraying creak of the knee-joint. His shoes he had long since removed. And in the heavy planking under him, luckily, there was little chance of a floor squeak.

He moved slowly and softly, yet it was laborious enough to bring a sweat to his straining body. Then he sat tailor-wise, leaning slightly forward, listening again.

Out of the infinite stillness a small trouble had insinuated itself on his consciousness. At first he thought it was the sound of his own laboured inhalations. Then he attributed it to the blood-pressure in his head. Yet the next second he was leaning further forward and listening more intently.

On his over-sensitized aural nerves that small trouble still impressed itself. He could neither explain nor define it. Then a running and ramifying thrill of apprehension swept through his stiffened body. He rolled slowly and cautiously over on one hip, and as slowly lowered his torso until the side of his head was flat against the planking on which he had been