Still doubtful of his good luck, Defoe called out once more:
“I say, stranger, have you gone?”
The only sound that greeted his ears was the faint creaking of a window in the adjoining dining-room. Defoe rose and darted to the connecting door, snapping on the electric light at the entrance to the dining-room.
The room was vacant of any soul but himself.
All he could see was the slight movement of the lace curtain at the dining-room window—and when he examined the window he found it latched.
III.
THE NEXT day Defoe went to his doctor. He wished to take stock of himself; perhaps he had been applying himself too closely to his business.
“You are badly run down, Allen,” the physician said, almost before he had sat down with his patient. “You look mentally distressed.”
“I am,” admitted Defoe. “Working too hard, I guess.”
The doctor eyed him keenly.