"Yesterday afternoon, Richards? I don't recall it. I imagined that I had been there only a short while."
"You were missing from your room, sir, and we could not find you."
"Did you look upstairs?" The millionaire asked the question wearily.
"We tried the door, sir, but it was locked. Your key was downstairs, so we didn't suppose you could be there, sir."
"Burbank must have left his key in the lock. I recall going in the room — I'm not exactly sure of the time I entered — and it seems to me the key was in the door."
The valet hurried to the phone and called Doctor Wells. Richards reported the return of Lamont Cranston, and the doctor hurried over immediately. He listened to Richards's story and decided that Cranston must have become delirious during the previous afternoon.
"That wireless room was preying on your mind," the physician said to the millionaire. "You must have gone upstairs and fallen asleep. I can't understand how you managed to get that far. Oddly, your condition seems to be improved despite the exertion."
"Perhaps I am capable of greater exertion than climbing stairs," said Cranston with a slight smile.
"Possibly," replied the physician. "I believe now that your condition was somewhat better than I supposed."
"Mr. Fellows has arrived," announced Richards.