Edgar Wallace

“ Reeder examined the stick again.
"It is a thousand pities that it is not a fishing-rod," he said. "Will you stay here?—and don't move."
And then he began to crawl up the stairs on his knees, waving his stick in front of him in the most eccentric manner. He held it up, lifting the full length of his arm, and as he crawled upward he struck at imaginary obstacles. Higher and higher he went, silhouetted against the reflected light of the lamp he carried, and Police-Constable Dyer watched him open-mouthed. ”

“ Then he cast his lamp along the floor of the hall.
"No sawdust," he said, speaking to himself, "so it can't be that."
"Shall I go up, sir?" said the policeman, and his foot was on the lower tread when Mr. Reeder, displaying unexpected strength in so weary-looking a man, pushed him back.
"I think not, constable," he said firmly. "If the lady is upstairs she will have heard our voices. But the lady is not upstairs."
"Do you think she's in the kitchen, sir?" asked the puzzled policeman.
Mr. Reeder shook his head sadly.
"Alas! how few modern women spend their time in a kitchen!" ”

“ Her face, he noticed in his worldly way, was "made up"; the cheeks heavily rouged, the lips a startling red for one who was afraid. He supposed her to be pretty in normal circumstances, but was doubtful as to her age. ”