By Stealth Read Online Free

mine,' she said firmly.
    He shrugged with resignation. She was a crack shot on the range and seemed to have a grip on herself. If he insisted she'd take it as a display of a lack of confidence in her.
    `Andover,' he called out as they walked quietly into the deserted hall.
    He raised a hand to keep her silent. A wide old- fashioned staircase of oak mounted to a landing at the rear of the hall, then turned back on itself to climb higher. Round the first floor above them ran a railed gallery. Tweed looked up, checked it carefully. So often people forgot the danger could be at the higher level.
    The hall smelt of fog which had drifted in through the open door. Paula found the atmosphere, the total lack of movement, the silence, spooky. A light shone through an open door at the rear of the hall, another from an open door to their right. No light illuminated the hall which was oak-panelled and full of disturbing shadows.
    `Andover!' Tweed called out louder and waited.
    When there was no response he pointed to the rear door for Paula to explore, made a second gesture indicating he would check the right-hand room. Their rubber-soled shoes made no sound as they moved in their different directions.
    Tweed, standing at the entrance, peered inside the room which had the appearance of a study and library. The illumination came from a large shaded lamp on an ancient desk. He noted the heavy ceiling to floor curtains were closed over the windows, shabby crimson velvet curtains which needed replacing.
    Three walls were lined with glass-fronted bookcases and again they ran from ceiling to floor. A wooden ladder was perched against one bookcase and Tweed guessed the top had wheels so the ladder could be slid along. What was wrong with the empty room?
    The desktop was neat. A blotter framed in leather, a notepad with a fountain-pen ready for note-taking. The black telephone perched at one corner within a hand's reach of a carver chair behind the desk reminded him of Andover's agonized call from a public phone box. Why?
    As he walked slowly across the threadbare Axminster carpet he took off his glasses, began cleaning them on his handkerchief. A white mug with a delft design stood on a place mat on the desk full of brown liquid. He felt it with one hand and the mug was cold. In doing so he dropped his glasses.
    Stuffing his handkerchief in his pocket, he stooped to retrieve them, put them on, still crouched. He was straightening up when he caught sight of something at the top of the wire frame inside the large lamp shade. He stared at the small concealed object. Like a small glass eye it was covered with a fine grille. A listening bug.

    Tweed began moving with great agility. Picking up the telephone receiver, he unscrewed the speaking end. Inside was another listening bug. It was the most advanced type and voice-activated. He searched the whole room, knowing now where to look.
    Standing on a chair after lighting the central chandelier, he found a third of the devices cunningly secreted among the glass pendants. He replaced the chair, walked over to the ladder, climbed it until he could look along the rail. Nothing.
    He climbed down quickly, lifted the ladder, moved it cautiously towards the door, then more swiftly when he found the wheels were well oiled, made hardly a sound. The ladder slid along the rail and was then stopped by some obstruction close to the door. Normal with such ladders.
    Tweed shinned up to the top. The chandelier hanging from the high ceiling illuminated the gleaming rail. Secreted behind the block of wood acting as a stop was another bug of the same sophisticated type. Tweed's expression was grim as he climbed down and moved the ladder back to its original position. The whole place was bugged. Surely Andover must have spotted the device beneath the desk lamp? He heard a slight movement, swung round and froze. Paula was standing at the door entrance. Her facial muscles were taut, her whole stance tense.
    But what