And I was standing within an inch of the thing. I must have made a sudden movement for O’Leary whispered sharply again: “Hush!”
As if petrified, the three of us stood behind that burlap screen. There was not a sound in the room. As my eyes became adjusted to the darkness I found that the window near the bed was faintly visible through the crack in the screen and I glued my gaze to that crack.
Once the man at my side stirred a little and then quieted abruptly, and I had no doubt that that menacing revolver was thrust closer into his ribs.
Just as I felt that my lungs were bursting I became aware that there was a shadow, deeper than the surrounding shadows, there at the window. I blinked and peered closer. Yes, I was sure. Silently, with amazing lack of sound it crept from the window sill into the room, paused for a second and then, so silently that it did not seem to be anything human, it glided across the room and out of my little angle of vision.
Then I was aware that O’Leary was gone and simultaneously I heard a sound like the creaking of a bed spring and O’Leary’s voice, cold and hard as that vicious revolver.
“Stand where you are! Hands up! Turn on the light, Miss Keate. Hands up! I’ve got you!”
Turn on the light!
Cross that room to the door? No, here was the light above the bed! Where was the cord! Ah! My fingers grasped it, pulled convulsively and light flooded the room.
There was a muffled exclamation from the closet door. A man standing there flung his hands over his head. O’Leary was standing on the high, narrow bed, his revolver covering the room. The man behind the screen was still motionless.
“All right, O’Brien,” said O’Leary very quietly, without moving his head.