CHAPTER XIII

THE ROOM BELOW I ran into the sitting-room, to discover Nayland Smith craning out of the now widely opened window. The blind had been drawn up, I did not know by whom; and, leaning out beside my friend, I was in time to perceive some bright object moving down the grey stone wall. Almost instantly it disappeared from sight in the yellow banks below. Smith leapt around in a whirl of excitement. “Come on, Petrie!” he cried, seizing my arm. “You remain here, Weymouth; don’t leave these rooms whatever happens!” We ran o…