There was evidence of a physical encounter, but she could not tell whether it was due to the former or to the latter invasion.
Where was he?
From where she stood she could not see the floor on the far side of the bed.

Timidly she walked past the foot of the bed--and the transient paralysis of horror laid hold of her.

She became bereft of the power to grasp and hold, and the automatic slipped from her fingers and thudded on the carpet.
On the floor lay poor Johnny Two-Hawks, crumpled grotesquely, a streak of blood zigzagging across his forehead; to all appearances, dead!.