“What sort of sounds?”
“Something crawling about!”
Bristol turned.
“Key is in the lock on the inside of the door,” he said. “Is that where you found it?”
“Yes, sir!”
He looked across to where the brass knob of a safe gleamed dully.
“Safe locked?”
“Yes, sir.”
Professor Deeping lay half under the table, a spectacle so ghastly that I shall not attempt to describe it.
“Merciful heavens!” whispered Bristol. “He’s nearly decapitated!”