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Evidently the
intruder was now mounting the stairs to the art-gallery.
"Actually I can hear the light of the stars shining in through
that wonderful plate glass skylight of yours, Mr. Spencer," he
went on. "A few moments ago when the moon shone through I could
hear it, like the rumble of a passing cart. I knew it was the moon
both because I could see that it must be shining in and because I
recognised the sound. The sun would thunder like a passing
express-train if it were daytime now. I can distinguish a shadow
passing between the optophone and the light. A hand moved across
in front of it would give a purring sound, and a glimpse out of a
window in daylight would sound like a cinematograph reeling off a
film.
"Ah, there he is." Craig was listening with intense excitement
now. "Our intruder has entered the art-gallery. He is flashing his
electric light cane about at various objects, reconnoitring. No
doubt if I were expert enough and had had time to study it, I
could tell you by the sound just what he is looking at.


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