A flashlight lay on the floor beside him. The butt of a gun projected from his pocket.
Mayhew’s bewilderment ended as he thought of the little bedroom. Perhaps the killer was there!
He could have reached it in ample time before the outer door was opened. Unless he had removed a grating from the window of the bedroom, the man must still be there.
Mayhew went to the door of the outer room and switched out the study lights. The patrolmen had arrived.
Mayhew beckoned to them, with his revolver as he drew a flashlight from his pocket. He indicated the door of the bedroom.
“One man here,” he ordered. “Another at the door of the bedroom, there. I’m going in!”
Grimly, the uniformed men took their positions. Mayhew, known as one of the most daring of detectives, handed his flashlight to the patrolman beside him, and carefully turned the knob of the door.
“Have your gun ready,” he whispered. “I’ve turned the knob. Give me the light.”
Crouching, Mayhew pressed the door with his shoulder. As it opened slowly inward, Mayhew turned the torch to reveal the nearest corner of the room.
He opened the door more fully. No one was visible.