The door swung open at last. He could look in. He did so—and stared appalled at what he saw, while goose flesh crawled on his spine and the hairs of his head stood up.
After a moment he closed the door of the closet and turned back, white-faced, to the others.
“What is it?” said Dale aghast. “What did you see?”
Bailey found himself unable to answer for a moment. Then he pulled himself together. He turned to Miss Van Gorder.
“Miss Cornelia, I think we have found the ghost the Jap butler saw,” he said slowly. “How are your nerves?”
Miss Cornelia extended a hand that did not tremble.
“Give me the candle.”
He did so. She went to the closet and opened the door.
Whatever faults Miss Cornelia may have had, lack of courage was not one of them—or the ability to withstand a stunning mental shock. Had it been otherwise she might well have crumpled to the floor, as if struck down by an invisible hammer, the moment the closet door swung open before her.
Huddled on the floor of the closet was the body of a man. So crudely had he been crammed into this hiding-place that he lay twisted and bent. And as if to add to the horror of the moment one arm, released from its confinement, now slipped and slid out into the floor of the room.