He snapped on the front entrance light and pulled the curtain away from the glass panel in the door in order to peer out.
His breath caught sharply. Footprints stood out clearly on the snow-covered porch. And through the veil of falling snow, for as far as the light penetrated, he could see further footprints—on the porch steps and on the flagstone walk that crossed the lawn to the sidewalk.
CHAPTER II
A FIRE
There was a double line of the footprints—one set coming toward the door, one set going away from it. Ken stared at them for a long moment.
Suddenly he realized that he was clearly visible, through the glass, to anyone who might be outside the house. Quickly he dropped the curtain into place and with a swift gesture he fastened the safety chain above the lock on the door.
Then he ran to the back door and fastened the safety chain there.
The events of the past few moments were perfectly clear in his mind. He sat on the edge of the kitchen table and ran over them again, trying to explain them to himself as he went along.
He had stepped out of his bedroom and had almost immediately felt the draft of cold air. Probably the front door was just then being opened. The faint click he had heard an instant later had probably been the door being cased shut again—because after the click he had no longer felt the draft.