“But the message which called him to the room,” suggested Maynard. “What about that? Who sent it, and from what place was it sent?”
“That we may learn of the man whom he visited,” said Nick, and the three took the elevator to the third floor. The halls were well lighted, but seemed deserted, and they were alone in the elevator, with the exception of the boy operator.
“The man who took the room seems to be awake,” said the clerk, pointing to the transom over the door of room 43. “There is a light inside.”
The clerk knocked on the panel of the door, but there was no response.
“Perhaps he is asleep,” said the clerk. “I’ll try him again.”
There was no response to the second summons, and the detective took out his picklock. In a moment the door flew open.
Nick stepped inside, then turned and faced Maynard in the doorway. His face was paler than usual, but there was no excitement in his manner.
“Wait a moment,” he said to the young man. “Prepare yourself for a shock before you step into the room.”
“Who is there?” whispered Maynard, who seemed to have lost the power of loud speech. “Is he ill?”
The clerk brushed by the two men, and advanced to a table which stood at the centre of the room, and at which a figure clad only in white underclothing was half sitting, half lying, with arms resting on the top.