For, as all conceded, too little time had elapsed between its delivery and the discovery of the victim for the quickest possible attempt at escape to have carried the concealer of the bow very far from the spot where he had thrown it.

It was possible--just possible--that he might have got as far as one of the four large rooms opening into the corridor stretching across the front, but that he was not in the gallery itself Mr.Gryce soon convinced himself by a rapid walk through its entire length.
That he did not follow up this move by an immediate searching of the rooms I have mentioned was owing to a wish he had to satisfy himself on another point first.
What was this point?
In passing along the rear on his way to this gallery, he had noticed the narrow staircase opening not a dozen feet away to his left.

This undoubtedly led down to the side-entrance.

If by any chance the user of the bow had fled to the rear instead of to the front, he would be found somewhere on this staircase, for he never could have got to the bottom before the cry of "Close the doors! Let no man out!" rendered this chance of immediate exit unavailable.

So Mr.Gryce retraced his steps, and barely stopping to note the boy eying him with eager glances from the doorway of Room A, he approached the iron balustrade guarding the small staircase, and cautiously looked over.
A man was there! A man going down--no, coming up; and this man, as he soon saw from his face and uniform, was Correy the attendant.
"So that is where _you_ were," he called down as he beckoned the man up.
"As near as I can remember.