Just as he did so he heard a blood-curdling cry that nearly froze his soul with horror.
"Help! murder! mur——"
For the space of ten seconds Van stood as if transfixed.
The terrible cry came from his uncle's room, which was on the first floor, and almost directly beneath him.
The boy knew, too, that it was his uncle's voice that uttered the cries, and seizing a revolver from the drawer of the bureau in his room, he darted downstairs.
Reaching the door of the room whence the cries came, he found it locked.
Van Vincent was not the sort to be balked very easily when he started to do a thing. Taking a few steps backward, he let his whole weight go against the door and forced it from its hinges.
The next instant he was in the room.
Almost the first object he saw was a man clambering from an open window.
He raised his revolver, but too late! the intruder dropped to the ground below and was lost in the storm and darkness.