Upstairs doors opened and closed.

Gruff, harsh tones in commands echoed through the house.

The search party descended to the second floor--and again the same sounds were repeated.

And then, thumping down the creaking stairs, they stopped before Jimmie Dale's room.

Some one tried the door, and, finding it locked, rattled it violently.
"Open the door!" It was Kline's voice.
Jimmie Dale's eyes were closed, and he was breathing regularly, though just a little slower than in natural respiration.
"Break it down!" ordered Kline tersely.
There was a rush at it--and it gave.