There was a door opening off the rear of the room. Burton glided to it and carefully pushed it ajar. Stygian darkness reigned beyond.
The opening of the rear door had caused the heavy breathing to grow louder. The man–evidently the only one they were to find in the bungalow–must be in that back room. Clancy, with the candle, pushed into the lead, and entered the next apartment.
Hill was watching Burton as keenly as a cat watches a mouse. At the first sign of a treacherous move, or the springing a trap, Hill would have been at Burton in a flash.
Nothing occurred, however, to alarm the investigators. Something was discovered, on the other hand, which certainly, astounded them.
A figure was lying on a cot bed–a figure that was bound wrist and ankle. A towel was tied over the face of the helpless form, and from behind this towel came the labored breathing which had already attracted attention.
The candle revealed the gruesome situation dimly. There seemed no longer any good reason for silence, and startled exclamations dropped from the lips of the three investigators.
"Black work has been going on here!" growled Burton.
"Wonder if that's Hogan?" queried Clancy.
"Whoever it is," spoke up Hill, "if that towel ain't removed he'll soon be smothered to death."
As he spoke, he hastened to the head of the bed, turned the form slightly so he could untie the ends of the towel, and presently removed the suffocating gag. As the head of the bound man fell back on the pillow of the bed, his face was brought clearly into the full light of the candle.