THE ADVENTURESS
I
THE MYSTERY OF THE “SYBARITE”
A revolver-shot followed by the crash of glass sounded in our hall.
At the same instant the laboratory door burst open and an elderly, distinguished-looking man stumbled in on us, his hat now off, his coat and collar awry, his hair rumpled, and his face wearing a dazed, uncertain expression, as though he did not yet comprehend what had so suddenly taken place.
“My God!” he exclaimed, gazing about in a vain effort to restore his dignity and equilibrium. “What was that? I hardly had my hand on the knob when it happened.”
A glance was enough to assure Kennedy that the man was unhurt, except for the shock, and in a moment he dashed out into the hall.
The front door of the Chemistry Building had been shattered by a revolver-shot. But not even the trace of a skulking figure could be seen on the campus. Pursuit was useless. There was, apparently, no one to pursue.
Pale and agitated still, the man sank limply into a chair as I forced a stimulant into his trembling lips.
Kennedy closed the door and stood there a moment, a look of inquiry on his face, but without a word.