For some time Merry seemed to sleep as peacefully as a child. Gradually the roaring from the streets became less and less. Frank breathed softly and regularly.
And then, without starting or stirring, he opened his eyes. He lay quite still and listened, but heard no sound at first. For all of this, he was impressed by a feeling that something was there in that room with him!
It was a strange, creepy, chilling sensation that ran over Frank. He shivered the least bit.
Rustle-rustle! It was the lightest of sounds, but he was sure he heard it.
Some object was moving in the room!
Frank remembered that he had closed and locked the door. Not only had he locked it, but he had bolted it, so that it could not be opened from the outside by the aid of a key alone.
What was there in that room? How had anything gained admittance?
Frank attempted to convince himself that it was imagination, but he was a youth with steady nerves, and he knew he was not given to imagining such things without cause.
Rustle—rustle!
There it was again! There was no doubt of it this time!