As Egbert Doyd reached the top steps, he passed Wilfred. The servant had been standing there unnoticed. Both men disappeared from sight. Theresa spoke to Shiloh; the young man followed her back into the library.
“Those were not the footsteps,” assured Theresa. “But I feel sure, Donald, that the creeping is deliberate. The same person could easily make shuffling sounds instead. But there is something else that I must tell you. Come — look here in this tiny desk drawer.”
The girl went to an old-fashioned secretary desk and opened a drawer. She brought out folded sheets of paper. Shiloh stared as he saw the typewritten lines.
“The missing code list!” he exclaimed. “The one that Clavelock could not find! Who put it here, Theresa? How did you discover it?”
“Yesterday evening,” explained the girl, “Mark Lundig was in here alone when I entered. I saw him hastily close this drawer. He did not realize that I had seen him. After he had gone upstairs, I investigated. I found the list.”
“So Lundig filched it. Hm-m-m. Look, Theresa. He has marked it. Evidently trying to figure out some answer for himself.”
“What shall I do about it?”
“Say nothing. Leave the list here. If you have any trouble with Lundig, call my apartment. If I am not there, Jeffrey will be. One or the other of us will come at once.”
Theresa replaced the list. She and Shiloh went out into the hall. They passed the reception room and arrived at the front parlor. Suddenly Theresa stopped short and stared into the front room. A man was seated there, reading. It was Mark Lundig.
THE fellow looked up, pretending surprise; but it was evident from the suspicious look in his eyes that he had heard the two approaching.
He laid the book aside and nodded to Theresa as he arose. Then he shook hands affably with Shiloh.
“I just came in,” remarked Lundig. “Wilfred admitted me, and I stopped in here to look through this old art portfolio. A most interesting volume. Most interesting! Well, Theresa, I shall see you later. I am going into the library.”
Lundig went back through the hall. Shiloh opened the front door. Theresa followed him to the steps; there, the girl expressed new suspicions.
“He has gone to the library,” she whispered, “to make sure that his precious list is still there. What is more, Donald, I do not believe that Wilfred admitted Mark. We would have heard the ring of the doorbell.”
“Then how did Lundig get into the house?”
“Through the side door, in back of the hall. It leads off beyond the library.”
“Is it unlocked?”
“No. But there are several keys to it. What is more, the lock is an old-fashioned one. There used to be a bolt; but it became so rusty that Wilfred removed it. The bolt has never been replaced.”
Shiloh pondered. Theresa looked quizzical. Seeing the girl’s expression, the man smiled.
“I was wondering,” he stated, “just when Lundig did come in. It was probably while Uncle Egbert was still in the library. That is why Lundig went toward the parlor.”
“Then it was he whom we heard passing?”
“Perhaps. Or he may have passed too softly for us to hear his footsteps. He must have watched from the parlor.”
“To see us go into the library?”
“Yes. That is why he waited longer in the front room.”
The matter settled, at least to partial satisfaction, Shiloh went his way. Before departing, he again assured Theresa that he would be ready in time of need. The girl watched the coupe roll from the curb; then went back into the house.
She went first to the library. Mark Lundig was no longer there; the girl decided that he must have gone to his room. Theresa went to her own room on the second floor, found a book and began to read.
Two hours passed. It was nearly six o’clock and the cloudy afternoon had darkened into dusk. The girl heard some one coming down the stairs from the third floor. She looked out of her room to see Wilfred passing. The servant was going to the kitchen to prepare dinner, for Wilfred was a competent chef, as well as a capable serving man.
Wilfred did not see Theresa. The girl watched him descend to the ground floor. She heard his footsteps fade. A somber silence pervaded the old house; then, from below, the girl detected a new sound. It was the creeping again, faint, almost inaudible; impossible to locate.
Theresa shuddered. The creeping ended abruptly. The girl listened tensely for a full five minutes; then went back into her room, closed the door and tried to resume her reading.
But she could not forget the ominous sound that she had heard. Through her mind kept flashing a name — the only title by which she could identify the person with those strange footsteps. The Creeper.
Theresa repeated the name aloud. Her own voice made her shudder as she said the name:
“The Creeper!”
AT last, Theresa settled down to read her book. She became engrossed; she forgot the passage of time, until the closing of a door on the second floor suddenly aroused her. The girl glanced at a clock on the bureau. It was nearly seven. That was the dinner hour.
Leaving her room, Theresa went to the stairway. Halfway down, she paused. Again she heard the creeping, more distinctly than before. An hour had lapsed since she had heard the sound before. The Creeper had moved about; then stopped somewhere. Again, he was prowling below.
Where was he? Theresa could not guess. The uncanny footsteps might have been anywhere on the ground floor — anywhere except near the parlor, for the girl could see the entrance to that room. She decided that the sound must be in the library, or in the hall that led beyond it. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the creeping ended.
Gathering nerve, Theresa went downstairs. She passed the doors of the reception room. They were shut tight. She went on through the rear hall; she reached the side door and tried it, to find the barrier locked.
Oppressed by the gloom, Theresa hurried back and entered the library. The room was lighted; it was also empty.
A sound made Theresa turn. The girl repressed a gasp as she saw Mark Lundig standing in the doorway of the library. The fox-faced man smiled. His expression indicated that he had not noticed the girl’s surprise.
“Dinner nearly ready?” inquired Lundig.
“I–I guess so,” stammered Theresa. “When did — I mean, did you just come downstairs?”
“Just this minute. My watch said seven, so I left my room. Ah! There is the dinner gong.”
Melodious chimes were sounding from across the hall. Theresa and Lundig left the library, to enter the dining room, which was the room located directly in back of the reception room. As they crossed the hall, Theresa stopped, noting that one of the reception room doors was slightly opened. Lundig saw the direction of the girl’s gaze and spoke promptly.
“I looked in there for Egbert,” he remarked. “Sometimes the old chap drops in there for a doze. I noticed that the door was slightly open; but I did not see Egbert.”
Footsteps came from the stairway. Egbert appeared; the old uncle smiled as he saw Theresa. His sickly face looked less yellow than usual; in fact, it was tinted with a slight flush.
“My nap did me good,” chuckled Egbert. “But I was sleeping like a cat all the while. The dinner gong awakened me. Well, well! For once I really feel like eating.”
They entered the dining room. Wilfred appeared as soon as they sat down and solemnly began to serve them. Both Mark Lundig and Egbert Doyd ate with relish; but Theresa had little taste for food. She was troubled, wondering about the insidious mystery that dominated this old house.