Once in the hall, the detective quietly closed the door, making sure it was fast.
Enough light came in through the glass above to show him the stairs.
There was carpet on the floor.
Near by were folding doors, and, as they stood ajar, Darrell poked his head through, not merely out of curiosity, but because he felt that he had an interest in the matter.
The parlor was furnished.
It was no empty house into which he had come thus surreptitiously.
Not a sound from within.
How strange it seemed.
What could it all mean?