"It will be rather a sell if Mannering is at home," I remarked.

"He will not be at home," replied Forrest with conviction.

CHAPTER XVI

I COMMIT A BURGLARY

THE night was moonless, but there was that soft diffused light in the
air invariable in June, except on the cloudiest of evenings. There was
just enough of it to enable us to see our way as we strolled towards
Mannering's house. When we reached it everything appeared still. All the
windows were dark. I felt my heart beginning to beat faster than
ordinarily as Forrest lifted the latch of the gate opening on to the
strip of garden, which lay between the road and the house. We walked
along the turf edging of the path in order that our feet might not
crunch upon the gravel. Forrest was first. He went straight to the front
door and tried it. It was fast.

"We will try one of those French windows," he whispered after returning
to my side.

The house was a two-story cottage with a verandah opening on the south
side facing a lawn. On to this verandah windows opened from both the
dining and sitting-rooms, the servants' quarters being on the other side
of the house.

We went round the angle of the building and tried the first window. It
was fastened. With cat-like tread Forrest glided on to the second. It
was one of the two giving entrance to the sitting-room. A sibilant sound
from the detective's lips took me to his side. Without hesitating a
second, he threw back the casement and stepped into the darkness.

"Come," he muttered, and I followed.

Heavy curtains veiled the windows and past these the darkness was thick
enough to be felt. Of a sudden there was a crack which made me start. It
was only Forrest striking a match. With imperturbable confidence, he
stepped towards a table and lit the lamp which stood thereon. I felt
exceedingly uncomfortable, but Forrest obviously knew no such qualms,
for he at once proceeded to examine every object in the room. So far as
I could see, there was nothing at all unusual about the place. The room
was in exactly the same condition as I had observed it hundreds of times
before when I had dropped in for a smoke and a chat. On the table,
beside the lamp, was a tantalus and a glass, and a half empty syphon.
The glass had been used and the ash on the floor, beside an armchair,
showed that a cigar had accompanied the drink. A pair of slippers lay on
the hearth rug as if they had been carelessly kicked off. Forrest
pointed t