Still no sound but he was sure that someone was in the room. He groped in his pocket for his cigarette lighter. A board creaked near him.
He suddenly felt frightened, and he stepped back hurriedly, cannoning into the table. He heard his glass of whisky crash to the floor.
“Fay! What are you playing at?” he demanded hoarsely.
He distinctly heard a footfall, then a chair moved. The hair on the nape of his neck bristled.
He got out his lighter, but his hand was shaking so badly the lighter slipped out of his grasp and dropped on the floor.
As he bent to grope for it, he heard the sound of a lock click back, then a door creaked.
He looked towards the front door, trying to see through the darkness that enveloped him. He could see nothing.
Then the front door slammed shut, making him start violently, and he distinctly heard the sound of footsteps running down the stairs.
“Fay!”
He was thoroughly alarmed now.