And, as before, fear scourged him to feverish rage.
Recklessly he pressed the flashlight's button; and swung the muffled bar of light in every direction.

In his other hand he leveled the pistol he had drawn.

This time the shaded ray revealed to him not only his bag, but,--vaguely,--the Thing that held it.
He could not make out what manner of creature it was which gripped the satchel's handle and whose eyes pulsed back greenish flares into the torch's dim glow.

But it was an animal of some kind;--distorted and formless in the wavering finger of blunted light; but still an animal.
Not a ghost.
And fear departed.

The intruder feared nothing mortal.