"So am I."
"Do you think it could all be imagination?"
"Those moans? Maybe the first one—I've heard of people imagining sounds. But not the last ones. And besides, we all heard them."
Jim Wilson, utterly oblivious of any subtle emanations in the air, boomed out in satisfaction: "We don't have to bust the joint open. The revolving door works."
"Then maybe we ought to be careful," Frank said. "Maybe somebody else is around here."
"Could be. We'll find out."
"Why are we afraid?" Nora whispered.
"It's natural, isn't it?" Frank melted the beam of his light with that of Jim Wilson. The white finger pierced the darkness inside. Nothing moved.
"I don't see why it should be. If there are people in there they must be as scared as we are."
Nora was very close to him as they entered.