"Who what is?" I said, startled by her words and expression.
"The man upstairs?"
I was terror-stricken—the experiences of the night had unhinged her mind. I tried to take her hand, but she drew it back, her lips forming words just loud enough for me to hear:
"You don't. It's Hollings Harland."
"Carol!" I cried, certain now she was unbalanced.
She drew farther away from me and slipping her hand from the balustrade pointed up the stairs:
"Go and see. It's he. There's nothing the matter with me, but I want you to see for yourself. Go and see and then come back here and I'll tell you. I know everything now."
I went, a wild rush up the stairs. In a room off the upper hall, the light tempered by drawn blinds, were O'Mally, Babbitts and the inspector, looking at the dead body of Hollings Harland.
[CHAPTER XX]
JACK TELLS THE STORY