wish. This was the library, Parrish's own room, designed by himself and
furnished to his own individual taste.

It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and
contained the drawing-room--which was scarcely ever used, as both
Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
lounge--and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
into the gardens at the back of the house.

It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Komain now hastened.
They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a
soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door
which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence.
Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door, the
electric light was burning.

Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
handle. The door was locked.

"Hartley!" he cried and rapped again. "Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It's
me, Horace!"

Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
locked room. There was an instant's silence. Horace and the doctor
exchanged an interrogatory look.