to the knocker with one hand while he consulted a slip of paper. He had
scarcely rung the bell before a slightly parted curtain in the front room
fell together, and a moment later the door was opened by a man in the
livery of a butler, but with the face and physique of a prize-fighter.

"Lady of the house," Quest demanded. "Want to see the lady of the house."

Almost immediately he was conscious of a woman standing in the hall before
him. She was quietly but handsomely dressed; her hair was grey; her smile,
although a little peculiar, was benevolent.

"You had better come in," she invited. "Please do not stand in the
doorway."

Quest, however, who heard the footsteps of the others behind him, loitered
there for a moment.

"You're the lady whose name is on this piece of paper?" he demanded. "This
place is all right, eh?"

"I really do not know what you mean," the woman replied coldly, "but if
you will come inside, I will talk to you in the drawing-room."

Quest, as though stumbling against the front-door, had it now wide open,
and in a moment the hall seemed full. The woman shrieked. The butler
suddenly sprang upon the last man to enter, and sent him spinning down the
steps. Almost at that instant there was a scream from upstairs. Quest took
a running jump and went up the stairs four at a time. The butler suddenly
snatched the revolver from Hardaway's hand and fired blindly in front of
him, missing Quest only by an inch or two.