"Someone," she said, pointing to the lights.
"O.K." he said, entering before her. Sprawled in Jenny's easy-chair was—
"Foster!"
"Who—me?" asked Foster in surprise. "Foster's dead."
"Can it," snapped Woodart. "And talk!"
"Or else?" drawled Foster indolently.
"Or else," snarled Woodart.
"Or else what?"
Tim went to the telephone and dialed the number of the police force.
"Don't bother," said Harry Foster. "I'm ... Foster, that is, is dead."