Perhaps Bob had left it burning; perhaps he was there now. In the latter event, Betty could explain her presence by explaining that she had heard a noise downstairs and had come to investigate.
Nevertheless, it might be well to observe Bob before he saw her. With catlike stealth, Betty advanced to the doorway.
The light on the floor of the hall fascinated her. It was more than a gleam. Into it came a peculiar shadow — the elongated silhouette of a man’s profile.
The patch of blackness swayed. Betty watched its motion. She stepped forward and turned to look into the room.
BY the desk stood a tall man clad in black. His back was turned toward the door. He seemed a strange phantom of the night — a living being that had come from nowhere. Across the floor lay his long, weird shadow, stretching into the gloom of the hall.
Betty’s hands gripped the sides of the doorway, as she stood horrified by the presence of this uncanny personage.
She could see the folds of the black cloak which hung from his shoulders; the back of the broad-brimmed hat which was upon his head. He was examining the desk — the motion of his black-gloved hands indicated that fact.
While Betty stood, entranced, the man must have sensed her presence. He swung suddenly to face the door. As his cloak spread wide, the girl caught a glimpse of its crimson lining and the thin, black-clad form within the cloak.
The face of the man was invisible, obscured by the collar of the cloak and the low brim of the hat. All that Betty could see was the glow of two piercing eyes that shone beneath that hat brim; eyes that saw her standing in the doorway.
The girl raised a hand to her mouth to repress a scream. Then a low, soft laugh echoed through the room. It came like a spectral whisper — an eerie sound that seemed beyond reality.