The bolts slipped back in their well-oiled sockets without any effort.

Evidently Kara used this place pretty frequently, thought T.X.
He pushed the door open and stopped with an exclamation of surprise.

The cellar apartment was brilliantly lit--but it was unoccupied.
"This beats the band," said T.X.
He saw something on the table and lifted it up.

It was a pair of long-bladed scissors and about the handle was wound a handkerchief.

It was not this fact which startled him, but that the scissors' blades were dappled with blood and blood, too, was on the handkerchief.