In another moment he would have followed at all costs, when light again shone round the corner of his curtain, and the unseen steps passed where he stood and into the hall. Instantly Geoffrey slipped from his hiding place, stepped silently across the corridor, and mounted a few stairs. From there he could see Mr. Francis's movements in the hall; from there also he had a good start of him to the upper floor again. The snap of a lock, the grating jar of a bolt, drawn or withdrawn, followed, and having heard that he waited no more, but went swiftly up again to his room and closed the door behind him quickly but with elaborate noiselessness. Soon light footsteps came along the passage outside; they went by his door, by Harry's, and grew fainter. The closing of a distant latch was just audible, then all was darkness and silence. The first part of the night's work was over.
Geoffrey lit his candle again, smiling with a certain grimness to himself. His next move, evolved during this last half hour of waiting and listening, had a simple ingenuity about it which pleased him. It meant another journey to the hall, after a precautionary pause, and the only apparatus required was a little piece of stamp paper. So at the end of a quarter of an hour he went downstairs again and examined the front door. Bolt and lock were undrawn: Mr. Francis's visit, then, had been to undo them, so that they should be found unlocked in the morning. This was on all fours with his private theory, and after a little consideration he secured the door again, partly for the safety of the house, partly for the sake of giving Mr. Francis something to think about, if he did leave the house that way. Then, standing on a chair and reaching up to his full height, he stuck the piece of stamp paper across the meeting of the door and jamb. Thus no one could open it without tearing the paper.
One thing more remained, and that for the sake of his own peace of mind. At risk of waking him he went to Harry's room and looked in. Harry was lying on his side fast asleep, and, shading his candle, Geoffrey waited till he heard two evenly-taken breaths. So far, then, all was well.
He slept but lightly and in broken snatches after the excitements of these hours, and it required no great deed of violence on his inclinations to enable him to get up early. In the cool, accustomed daylight the things of the night seemed to have more of the texture of dream than reality, but proof of them awaited him when he went to the front door, for the little piece of stamp paper was whole and unbroken, the door still locked and bolted. Then, to make doubly sure of the reliability of his experiment, he himself undid the door and opened it, and the stamp paper was torn in half. It was not by this exit, then, that Mr. Francis had left the house.