"Eddie Hughes has a room off the garage."
"He's in it now."
"How do you know?" he asked quickly.
"There's a light—or there was. It's gone now."
"That wouldn't have been Eddie," Worth said. "His room's on the other side, toward the back street. What you saw was the light from these windows shining on the fog. Makes queer effects sometimes."
I knew that wasn't it, but I didn't argue with him, only remarked,
"I'd like to have a look at that place, Worth, if you don't mind."