The room was empty.
Something cold and chilling gripped at his heart, and an impulse which he no longer made an effort to resist pulled him to the head of the stair.

It was more than an impulse--it was a demand.

Step by step he went down, his hand on the butt of his Colt.
He reached the lower hall, which was still lighted, and a step or two brought him to a view of the door that opened into the big living-room beyond.

That door was partly open, and the room itself was filled with light.

Soundlessly Kent approached.