“The lantern!” whispered Monte Irvin.
He stumbled into the room, from which a heavy smell of perfume swept out upon the landing. Quentin Gray, snatching the lantern from the floor, where it had been replaced, was the next to enter.
“Look for the switch, and turn the lights on!” called the Inspector, following.
Even as he spoke, Gray had found the switch, and the apartment of Kazmah became flooded with subdued light.
A glance showed it to be unoccupied.
Gray ran across to the mushrabîyeh cabinet and jerked the curtains aside. There was no one in the cabinet. It contained a chair and a table. Upon the latter was a telephone and some papers and books. “This way!” he cried, his voice high pitched and unnatural.
He burst through the doorway into the inner room which he had seen Mrs. Irvin enter. The air was laden with the smell of frankincense.
“A lantern!” he called. “I left one on the divan.”
But Monte Irvin had caught it up and was already at his elbow. His hand was shaking so that the light danced wildly now upon the carpet, now upon the green walls. This room also was deserted. A black gap in the curtain showed where the material had been roughly torn. Suddenly:
“My God, look!” muttered the Inspector, who, with the others, now stood in the curious draped apartment.