The clocks announced the ends of the hours according to their
temperaments; coming in the midst of the total silence, the din seemed
to Pendleton to be terrific; he pictured appalled criminals on their
way through the dark halls, crouching in fear at the sounds. Eleven
o'clock struck, and then twelve with its continued uproar. It seemed a
long time before one and then two sounded. Pendleton's limbs were
beginning to feel loggy and numb because of the chill and the
continued inaction. He had ventured to stir them a little, and was
wrapping the heavy blanket more closely about himself, when he felt
Ashton-Kirk's hand upon his shoulder.
"Hush-h-h!" said the investigator in a whisper.
Instantly Pendleton was motionless; he listened intently, but the
silence of the place seemed complete.
"What is it?" he finally ventured to breathe.
The hand upon his shoulder tightened warningly; but there came no
other reply. Again Pendleton listened. The door of the showroom stood
open; Ashton-Kirk had placed it so in order that they might catch any
sound that came from the hall. All the other doors leading into the
hall from Hume's apartments were securely locked; anyone who ventured
into the suite must first pass through the showroom where the two
waited and watched.
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