“A good dull book—that’s what I need,” Ken decided. “And Pop’s got plenty of them in his library downstairs.”
In his robe and slippers he cautiously opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the silent hallway. As he moved toward the stairway he slid one hand along the wall to feel for the hall-light switch.
Suddenly he stopped. A cold draft was swirling around his feet. He was just deciding that he hadn’t pulled the bedroom door tight shut when something else caught his attention. Below him, in the darkness, a faint click sounded.
And almost immediately the draft around his feet died away.
Ken’s hand moved swiftly then. His fingers found the switch and the hall light snapped on. Ken took the two descending steps to the turn in a single quiet leap. But before he could start down the rest of the flight he heard another click from downstairs, and felt another surge of cold air around his feet. A third mysterious click sounded just as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Ken snapped on all three switches on the wall of the lower hallway. The hallway itself, the living room, and the sun porch all became brightly illuminated.
But the light revealed nothing to his searching eyes. The rooms looked just as they had looked some time before, when the Allens and Holts had gone upstairs to bed. He went through the dining room, into the kitchen, and into the pantry, turning on all the lights as he went. But nowhere was there any sign of disturbance, or of an intruder who might have been responsible for those clicking sounds.
Ken shook his head. “Was I dreaming? I certainly thought I heard something down here. And it sounded like the front door opening and closing.”
Finally he turned off all the lights, picked up his book, and started back toward the stairs. But at the foot of them he stopped. That cold draft around his feet couldn’t have been a dream.
Ken moved swiftly to the front door. It was securely locked. He started for the kitchen door and then turned back.