‘You mean there isn’t any evidence of a break-in. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.
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