“A skeleton!” he cried aloud.
One circle of his light told him where he was.
“The basement of the Museum,” he thought, and instantly felt better.
A narrow flight of stairs brought him to a dimly lighted floor above.
There was no one there. The place was still as death.
Hastily tiptoeing down the aisle, he came at last to an open window. This window was a scant ten feet above the ground.
“He went out here,” he assured himself.
Clambering out he fell to the grass, then took a survey of the grounds about him. On every side was an open park. Except in one direction the view was unobstructed.
“He could have disappeared only by hiding in that clump of trees,” he told himself. “He’ll wait there until he thinks I’m gone.
“I’ll go around the corner out of sight, and wait for him.”