Then he began to look about the room. He saw no one there.
But the drawn window shades suddenly attracted Berger’s attention. He began to mumble, as though talking in a delirium.
“Those shades were up when I went out,” he said. “I ought to keep them up. Shades down — looks bad. Who put them down?”
He rubbed his hand across his forehead. Evidently Stanley Berger’s mind was troubled. He appeared restless as he paced across the room.
“Too many people in the theater,” he muttered. “Couldn’t stay there. Bad place.”
He walked over to raise the window shades; then he apparently changed his mind, for he stopped short, and stood by the table. He looked at the opposite wall of the room.
A bookcase was there, near the corner. The black shadow of the bookcase seemed to fascinate Berger. He became motionless, staring at the spot.
Then he detected a slight movement. Before his astonished eyes, the darkness of the corner seemed to alter.
There appeared a tall figure, clad in black, its shoulders shrouded in a cloak of sable hue.
Stanley Berger tried to speak; but no sound came from his lips. This amazing form that had come from nothingness seemed to transfix his gaze.