Grover, intently considering the Doctor’s last words, spoke:
“What do you mean by saying that you are being warned by some occult means that you are marked to be a victim?”
The man addressed held up a hand.
“It will tell you!” His face was set; he was listening.
Again Roger heard the inexplicable sound.
This time, no voice! Beginning in a low moan, faint and very much like the whine of a puppy that is hungry, it grew in volume, and its tone changed from a high falsetto, running down the scale and then up again, in cycles, constantly growing louder, while Grover, again rushing to the upper floor, stood looking around as, with a great grinding and rumble, following the last piercing roar of the sound, there fell silence.
Doctor Ryder, rising, walked around the recording machinery and Mr. Ellison’s newest camera, that worked with a stroboscopic lamp and ran its film so fast that no shutter was needed, as daylight did not act on it long enough in any spot to fog it.
“That,” he called upward, “was the real Voice of Doom.”
Grover, bidding Roger turn over the monitoring work to Potts, summoned his younger cousin.
“Roger,” as the hurrying figure came into the room with the vacant glass experiment-cage, “are you afraid to stay up here?”