Cecil peered nervously about into the shadows.
"It's a ghostly house this of yours," Forrest said grumblingly, as they closed the door behind them.

"I shall be thankful to get back to my rooms in town and walk down Piccadilly once more.

What's that outside ?" "The wind," Cecil answered.

"I thought it was going to be a rough night." The window had been left open at the top, and the roar of the wind across the open places came into the room like muffled thunder.

The lamp which Forrest carried was blown out, and the two men were left in darkness.
"Shut the window, for Heaven's sake, man!" Forrest ordered sharply.
"Here!" He took an electric torch from his pocket, and both men drew a little breath of relief as the light flashed out.