“Uh-huh,” Mason said. “Let’s find the light switch, Paul.”
The beam from Drake’s flashlight spotted a light switch. Mason reached for it, then stopped and said, “Wait a minute. This switch is already on.” He clicked it twice, to no avail.
“Looks like a fuse,” Drake said.
“All right,” Mason told him, “keep going. Throw your flashlight down on the floor. Let’s look for... there it is.”
Drake examined the red spot on the floor and said, “Now, wait a minute, Perry. Before we go any farther you’d better tell me exactly what you’re looking for. If this is...”
Mason jerked the flashlight out of the detective’s hand and said, “If this is what I think it is, Paul, we haven’t any time to waste in argument.” He swung the beam of the flashlight in a circle. Drake said, “Here’s another track coming out of this door.”
Mason pushed open the door, and Drake said, “Oh — Oh!” as the beam of the flashlight rested on the sprawled, lifeless figure of Austin Cullens.
“Try those lights,” Mason said.
Drake fumbled for the light switch, and clicked it ineffectively. “Listen, Perry,” he said, “let’s not leave any fingerprints around here. Let’s notify the police and...”
“In a house of this size,” Mason interrupted, “there’ll be several circuits. One fuse blown out won’t kill all the lights. Of course, the main switch may have been pulled, but it’s more apt to be a fuse. Try some of the other rooms, Paul, until you get one where the lights are on.”