He passed over a ten-dollar bill, which the boy took with a hand that was a trifle unsteady.
"Now, go ahead down the corridor, and open the door when nobody's looking, but don't act so sneaky that you'll be suspected if some guest should see you," ordered Hutchinson. "Leave the door ajar a bit. The chambermaid for this floor is working at the front of the house, isn't she?"
"Yep; she was in Number Eleven when I come up. If I'm caught—"
"Quit that, and get a move on. When I come out, I'll close the door. You can lock it afterward. Stir yourself now."
A few minutes later, stepping almost as lightly as a cat, Hutchinson left his own room, and moved down the corridor until, at the far end, he saw the door of Number Twenty-two, which was Tom Locke's room, standing the least bit ajar. In a moment he had passed inside, closed the door quietly, and shot the safety bolt.
The room had not been made up, but it was the maid's rule to take care of the front of the house first, and Hutch was not particularly fearful of interruption. If she should come, she would find the door bolted, and, unless she had seen him go out, doubtless she would think Locke still there.
