"At the farther end of the hall."

As West made no further effort to continue the conversation, but began to
carelessly roll a cigarette, Sexton slipped silently through the opening,
the valise in his hand, and closed the door behind him. West touched a
match to the cigarette, scarcely aware of the action.

This attempt to dig information out of a servant was not a pleasant
experience, yet he felt that in this case it was fully justified. To be
sure he had gained little, yet that little helped to clear away the fog,
and sustain the girl's theory that she was being impersonated by another
even to her own servants. If West had retained any lingering doubt as to
what had occurred the previous night, this doubt had entirely vanished in
the face of Sexton's testimony. His visitor, and the one who had ordered
the servant to leave the side door unlocked, had been the same--not
Natalie Coolidge, but strangely resembling her. Whoever she was, she knew
the house well, and possessed some means of entrance. Whatever else her
purpose might be, one object was clearly connected with the presence
there of Percival. She had sought his room, fleeing immediately on
discovering it to be occupied by another. Very well! this meant that he
already had two distinct lines of investigation opened to him--the woman,
and the man. The first was like pursuing a shadow, but Coolidge was real
enough. He determined to keep in touch with the fellow, confident that he
would thus be eventually led to a discovery of his companion. Beyond all
question, they were involved in the same scheme of conspiracy. West had
deliberately arrived at this conclusion, rather pleased at his success,
when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

"What is it?"