Cardona remembered this house. He prided himself on the softness of his approach.
At the head of the stairs he saw the light thrown into the hallway from the open door of the room where Lukens expected a visitor.
There was a dark spot on the opposite side of the hallway. It offered an excellent observation place.
Cardona slipped to the location; there, crouching low, he turned to look into the silent room.
The desk was obscured from view. Cardona shifted to the side, risking a momentary chance in the light.
There the detective rested motionless, too astounded to take instant action.
Face down on the floor lay the body of a man! The bushy gray hair identified the person as Doctor George Lukens. The arms were outstretched, as though the dead man had made a despairing effort to throw himself upon an attacker. The fists were clenched; but there was something about the left hand that halted the detective’s gaze.
The third finger of that hand projected straight outward from the closed fist!
Beside the body was a living man, a figure clad in black. Enveloped in the folds of a huge cloak, this living person seemed like a specter of the night — a sinister being of another world, whose mammoth shadow lay across the body sprawled upon the floor.
CARDONA experienced a sensation mingled with fear and amazement. He recognized the being in black. It was one whom he had never encountered, yet whom he knew existed.