He was listening intently.
Presently he got up, went to the bed and disarranged the clothes, giving them the appearance of having been slept in; then he went back to his chair and sat and listened again.
The faint noises of a big household retiring to rest grew less by degrees and then ceased; and presently all was perfectly still.

He sat motionless, still listening, for another hour, two; then he rose and, opening the outer door stealthily, stopped, with craned head, still listening.

The silence was unbroken, and with noiseless tread, he passed along the corridor to his father's door and, with his ear to the keyhole, listened again.

He could hear his father's steady, long-drawn breathing, the breathing of a man in a deep sleep.
With a gesture, as if he were controlling his nervousness, Heyton tried the handle of the door; the door was not locked and he opened it and went in.

The house was lit by electricity, and a small lamp was burning beside the Marquess's bed.