ACTING upon impulse, Herbert Carpenter stole from the room, across the hall. His hand touched the knob of the door that led to 928.
Had that door been locked, Carpenter might have desisted from his newly formed plan. But the door was not locked. It moved at Carpenter’s touch.
Opening the door a few inches, the ex-convict saw that he was located near an alcove in the corner of the room. Only a small portion of 928 was in view. A light gleamed upon a writing desk opposite.
Evidently Phineas Twambley was resting. This would be easy. Surprise the old man alone. Make him hand over whatever money he had. Flee from Seaview City.
Drawing his revolver, Carpenter advanced. He reached the corner of the alcove. In the gloomy light beyond he saw the foot of a large bed. He peered everywhere, and saw no sign of old Twambley.
His surmise must have been correct. The old man was on that bed, hidden from view by the high footboard.
Carpenter crept on. He reached the foot of the bed, by the nearer side. He stared. There was no one on the bed. Phineas Twambley was missing.
While Carpenter paused, he heard a strange sound. It was a low, whispered laugh, a shuddering, creepy laugh that seemed to fill the entire room with a ghastly echo. Wheeling, in bewilderment, Herbert Carpenter faced the outer door. There, he saw the person who had laughed.
A tall form clad in black was standing by the door. Garbed in flowing cloak and slouch hat, a weird personage was watching Carpenter with eyes that gleamed amid the gloom. A gasp of recognition came from Carpenter’s parched lips.
He had seen that apparition before — back on that terrible night when he had gone to blackmail Morton! Well did Herbert Carpenter, crook de luxe, know the identity of that terrible figure.