It was a long moment before understanding dawned on Harry. The method of the murder was obvious. The killer had reached through from the blackened window. Invisible in the dark, he had performed his terrible deed.
But why had he left the evidence? Had Harry’s presence frightened him away? No — the other murders had been perpetrated as boldly as this one, yet no such clew as this had remained—
Then came realization. The murderer had not expected Harry to find the cord of death. It was to lie there, to be found by the police.
Already on the way, the killer had expected the police to discover Harry Vincent, here, at the scene, beside the dead man, with a hopeless story!
He was to be branded as another archfiend — perhaps a disciple of Glendenning!
It did not take Harry more than a few seconds to act. Out went the light. He peered from the side window. Leaning, he could see the street, forty yards away. He saw a figure standing there.
Was it Joe Cardona, preparing the attack? Harry did not wait to learn. Softly, he drew the shade of the rear window and slipped out to the porch roof.
He clambered up the side of the house. On the roof, he headed for the other end of the flat-topped row.
Reaching his objective, Harry stopped beside a chimney. He was stooping, and his form could be but dim in the glow that came from the illumined streets. While Harry was standing there, another form appeared, but the young man did not see it.
This was the figure of a man, which rose from a crouched position near the edge of the roof. It approached with a crablike stride. It edged around the side of the chimney. It was close to Harry, now. Its arms were extending, and still, Harry Vincent did not know of its presence!