This sill
was wide and offered an easy footing. If the window were up, one could
easily step inside; or, even if it were not, the catch could be slipped
in a moment.
Harleston's window, however, was up--invitingly up; also the window on
the passage; it was a warm night and any air was grateful.
He lay quite still and waited developments. They came from another
quarter: the corridor on which his apartment opened. Someone was there.
Then the knob of his door turned; he could not distinguish it in the
uncertain light, yet he knew it was turning by a peculiarly faint
screech--almost so faint as to be indistinguishable. One would not
notice it except at the dead of night.
The door hung a moment; then cautiously it swung back a little way, and
two men entered. The moon, though now low, was sufficient to light the
place faintly and to enable them to see and be seen.
For a brief interval they stood motionless. They came to life when
Harleston, reaching up, pushed the electric button.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked, blinking into their
levelled revolvers.
They were medium-sized men and wore evening clothes; one was about
forty-five and rather inclined to stoutness, the other was under forty
and rather slender.
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