You can’t have a shadow without a light, and involuntarily Potter looked up the stairs.
What he saw was a great deal like what had scared him in the house in Jersey City. A man, with a lamp in one hand and a revolver in the other, was coming down the stairs!
There were points of difference between this man and the one in Jersey City, however. This man was dressed in a well-fitting business suit, and he did not look at all frightened. The hand that held the revolver was ominously steady.
“Ha!” growled the man with the revolver.
T. Burton Potter did not say anything. It seemed to him that there was nothing to be said.
The man who had said “Ha!” had a hard face, as well as hard voice. The eyes that were transfixing T. Burton Potter were fierce and sparkling. Potter thought they looked like the heads of polished steel rivets. Under the heavy, iron-gray brows, they were enough to take the nerve out of even as daring a man as Potter really was.
“Don’t reach for a gun,” continued the man on the stairs. “This one in my hand has a mighty easy trigger, and I may remind you that I have you covered.”
“I haven’t got a gun!” grumbled Potter. “If I had, I’m sensible enough to know when I’m beaten. What I want to say——”
“Don’t say it,” ordered the other. “And don’t try to get away down those kitchen stairs. Throw up your hands and step into that room at the side—the dining room. Then I’ll telephone for the police.”