...
The tapestry rustled, but he was yet too far distant to spring. He
crept on with the crouching, vicious attitude, mental and
physical, of a panther stalking its prey....
Like a thunderclap from a clear sky the glare of the light broke
out from the ceiling. Maitland paused, transfixed, on tiptoe, eyes
incredulous, brain striving to grapple with the astounding
discovery that had come to him.
The third factor stood in the doorway, slender and tall, in
evening dress,--as was Maitland,--a light, full overcoat hanging
open from his shoulders; one hand holding back the curtain, the
other arrested on the light switch. His lips dropped open and his
eyes, too, were protruding with amazement. Feature for feature he
was the counterpart of the man before him; in a word, here was the
real Anisty.
The wonder of it all saved the day for Maitland; Anisty's
astonishment was sincere and the more complete in that, unlike
Maitland, he had been unprepared to find any one in the library.
For a mere second his gaze left Maitland and traveled on to the
girl, then to the rifled safe--taking in the whole significance of
the scene. When he spoke, it was as if dazed.
"By God!" he cried--or, rather, the syllables seemed to jump from
his lips like bullets from a gun.
The words shattered the tableau. On their echo Maitland sprang and
fastened his fingers around the other's throat. Carried off his
feet by the sheer ferocity of the assault, Anisty gave ground a
little.
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