Page:Chipperfield--Unseen Hands.djvu/32

20 "I thought you just said that we did not know they were actually cut," the attorney put in quietly.

"D—n it, I don't know what to think!" exploded the harassed little man. "When we discuss it the whole thing seems wildly impossible; and yet I feel it, the entire family does! Can you ask a police detective to go on that?"

"You can ask Barry Odell to start at the ends of those severed picture-wires and be certain that he will finish the job, no matter where the trail leads him—now, what's the matter? Got a listening-spell on again?"

For Richard Lorne's rotund form had tensed, and his ear was turned to the door. After a moment he relaxed with a grunt.

"Thought I heard footsteps again." He rose. "Let's go to bed and try to get a wink of sleep. If I keep on hearing things I'll be a wreck to-morrow; and I want to have all my wits about me, if I ever had in my life!"

Morning dawned with a hint of autumnal frost in the air, and Lorne shook his peacefully slumbering companion.

"It's seven o'clock, Sam. I just rang and told Peters to have breakfast on the table in ten minutes, and to order a taxi. For heaven's sake, let's get on downtown and interview your man!"

"Eh?" Titheredge stretched his long, lanky frame. "With you in a minute, Dick."

His host was dressed first and nervously consulted the clock on the bed-stand.

"Eight minutes past," he announced. "I'll go on down ahead, old man, and see if breakfast is ready."

He closed the door after him, and the attorney heard his footsteps die away down the hall. Then all at once there