Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/283

 the light was not coming to put an end to all his plan.

But the velvety blackness was still unbroken, and again he had to exercise the greatest care as he groped on along the wall, feeling and padding about for the office door.

He came to that door, at last, and let a finger light as thistle-down caress and explore the knob. Then he permitted his entire hand slowly to encompass it, slowly turn it, and with steady but guarded pressure determine whether or not it was locked.

To his joy he found it was not.

He swung the door inward, inch by inch. He was breathing only with the upper area of his lungs as he waited, to make sure there would be no squeak. or whine of rusty hinges. It was with equal precaution and slowness that he closed the door again. Then he felt his way inward, circling about until he came to the edge of the desk, and exploring it with questioning fingers.

He found the cloth-covered telephone wires and traced them up to the transmitter stand. With the most scrupulous care he took up that transmitter and lifted it to the floor. Then he silenced the call-bell with his pocket handkerchief, tying it about the clapper to make all sound impossible. Then he stood in thought, for a moment or two, before groping his way back to the office wall. There his busy fingers again took up their exploration work, as he circled the room and stopped meditatively when he came to an overcoat hanging on a hook beside a paper-littered cabinet-top. It was a heavy overcoat, apparently of pilot-cloth,