About half way along the main corridor, and nearly opposite the door of Mr. Hazeldine's office, was a spiral, iron staircase which gave access to certain upper rooms used as storerooms for old books and papers transferred from the offices below. Up this staircase mounted Ephraim Judd till he reached a certain height, and then he paused. Over Mr. Hazeldine's door was a fanlight which could be used as a ventilator if so required. From his perch on the stairs Ephraim could see through the fanlight into the interior of the office. He could see, too, as previous experience had taught him, Mr. Hazeldine's table as well as Mr. Hazeldine himself, if that gentleman happened to be seated at it. He was so seated now, and for a space of about a dozen seconds Ephraim's eyes seemed as though they would transfix him. "What can he be after? What is he going to do?" he muttered to himself in genuine surprise, and with somewhat of a scared look on his face.
But there was no time for further prying. He heard Sweet's footsteps ascending the stairs from the lower premises. Half a minute later, and he had opened one of the big outer doors and had let himself into the street. He set off homeward in a more thoughtful mood than ordinary. Twice he turned to look at the lighted windows of Mr. Hazeldine's office. With the exception of them and the fanlight over the main entrance, the building was in darkness; Sweet's rooms in the basement having windows that looked the opposite way.
His tea was waiting for him when he reached home. After he had partaken of it he sat awhile, puzzling himself over a chess problem in a magazine; then he decided that he would go for a walk. He had not gone far before John Brancker nearly ran against him at the corner of a street.
"Hallo! Mr. B., whoever thought of meeting you at this time of night?" cried Ephraim.
"I'm on my road to William Strong's," answered John. "I hear that he's ill, and I'm doubtful whether he will be able to attend to the organ next Sunday. That was a spot of rain. Now that I'm so near the Bank, I may as well step in and get my umbrella, which I forgot to bring away this evening. Sweet will hardly have shut up for the night yet."
Ephraim's heart sank within him. Should John light the gas in the office, he would infallibly discover the bloodstains on the floor, and his doing so would lead to inquiry; but all he said aloud was:
"I daresay you will find Mr. H. still in his office."
Then the two men bade each other good-night, and John turned off towards the Bank.
Ephraim turned off too, but only to take another road which led to the Bank a little further on. He strode along with his stick and overshoes, making no noise as he went. Coming to a dark corner within sight of the Bank, he halted there and was just in time to see John go in. Mr. Hazeldine's office was still lighted up. Ephraim stood and watched with a beating heart. Would John light the gas, or would he not? His anxiety was of short duration. In three minutes John was out of the Bank again with his umbrella in his hand. He had found it in the dark. Ephraim breathed a sigh of relief, and then slunk further into his corner till John's footsteps had died away. The clock of St. Mary's Church was chiming the half-hour past ten as he turned up the street again.
From ten o'clock at night till six o'clock in the morning it was Obed Sweet's duty to perambulate the Bank premises once an hour and satisfy himself that everything was safe. At six o'clock Mrs. Sweet rose and got her husband's breakfast ready, after which Sweet generally went to bed for four or five hours. At seven o'clock Peggy Lown, who assisted Mrs. Sweet to clean the offices, rang and was admitted.
John Brancker had not been gone more than three or four minutes after fetching his umbrella when Obed Sweet came slowly up from the lower regions with the intention of locking up the premises for the night. He had heard, as he fancied, the front door clash, and he never doubted that it was Mr. Hazeldine who had gone home at last. Mr. Brancker had let himself in with his pass-key, of which he and Mr. Hazeldine each possessed one, and Sweet had not heard him enter. Feeling sure that Mr. Hazeldine was no longer there, Obed opened the door of the private office without any preliminary knock. He was quite startled at finding the "Guv'nor" still there, and the latter was evidently just as much startled at being so suddenly intruded upon. He put something away hastily into a drawer, and turned an ashen face on the night-watchman.
"Ah, Sweet, I did not hear you knock," he said in a faint, weary voice, very unlike his usual decisive way of speaking.
"Beg pardon, sir," answered Sweet, in a flurry, "but I made sure that I heard you go out about five minutes since."
"I shall be about half an hour yet. I will let myself out when I am ready. I suppose everyone else has gone?"
"Yes, sir; some time ago."
"That will do. You need not trouble further."
Sweet retired and shut the door very gently. Then he stood on the mat for a few moments, rubbing his nose thoughtfully.
"I could a' sworn I heard somebody shut the front door," he muttered; "and yet Mr. Judd went away more than an hour ago. I suppose I'm getting old and stoopid."
He tried the front door and found it fast. Then he opened the door of the general office and peeped in, but all was darkness there. Satisfied that he must have been mistaken, Sweet made his way downstairs to his cosy little room and lighted his pipe. His wife had gone to bed by this time, and he sat for nearly an hour, smoking and sipping occasionally at his mug of beer, and listening for the sounds of Mr. Hazeldine's departure. But Sweet's listening was in vain; no sound broke the silence. By-and-bye he put his pipe down and finished his beer. The room was warm and the ale was old; Sweet's eyelids drooped, shut, opened and shut again: the night-watchman was asleep. This was no uncommon occurrence during his long, lonely vigils; but he had a happy knack of waking up, alert and fresh, at the end of about half an hour. So it was in the present instance. Sweet awoke with a start and a shiver. The fire had burned low, and the clock pointed to half-past eleven. "The Guv'nor must surely have gone by this time," he said to himself, as he got up and yawned. Then he lighted his lantern and went upstairs.
Placing his lantern on one of the chairs in the corridor, he went to the door of Mr. Hazeldine's room and knocked. He was not going to make a breach in his manners again. But there came no response. He waited a few seconds, and then he opened the door and looked in. Everything was in darkness, as he had expected it would be; both the gas and the fire were out. Sweet shut and locked the door, the key being outside. Then he bolted and barred the heavy front door, and after a final glance into the other offices, he locked them also. His last act was to extinguish the gas in the corridor, after which his duties were over for another hour.
Next morning, a few minutes before seven o'clock, Peggy Lown rang the bell and was duly admitted by Mrs. Sweet. It was Peggy's duty to clean the two general offices and the passage, while Mrs. Sweet herself looked after Mr. Hazeldine's and Mr. Avison's rooms. The first thing Peggy did was to draw up the blinds and let more daylight in through the heavily-barred windows. She had got her broom and her pail of water and was about to set to work, when her eye was caught by a splash of something dark on the floor. She stooped to examine it more closely. Was it nothing more than some red ink which had been spilled, or was it blood? Peggy shuddered involuntarily. At this moment she heard Mrs. Sweet's cough in the corridor, so she went and beckoned to her and brought her in and pointed out the stain on the floor without a word.
Mrs. Sweet stooped as Peggy had done. "It's blood!" she exclaimed next moment, and the two women looked at each other in mute questioning.
Peggy was the first to speak.
"Look at these red finger-marks on this drawer," she said.
"Why, that's Mr. Brancker's drawer! What can it all mean?" queried Mrs. Sweet.
Peggy shook her head.
"Perhaps the gentleman has only cut his finger," she ventured to suggest.
Mrs. Sweet brightened up.
"That must be it; it sent me all of a shake, though, when I set eyes on it," she said.
"I shall have some trouble in getting them stains out," remarked Peggy. "I should have thought such a particular gentleman as Mr. Brancker might have tied his handkercher