“Could you have seen it if it had had substantial form?”
“Yes, because it was between me and the street lamp.”
“Have you ever had any similar experience in the past—any experience that resembles it in the slightest way?”
“Never!”
Dobson threw a puzzled look at the coroner.
“Well,” he began, and was interrupted by a blinding flash of light that suddenly illuminated the room.
With a cry of terror, Deweese whirled and, darting across the room, was about to hurl himself through the window, when Strange caught him by the arm and dragged him back.
“S’nothing but a flash-light,” he said reassuringly. “Sergeant Alington is photographing the finger-prints on the dagger. S’no wonder it scared you. Made me jump myself.”
Deweese shook off the sergeant’s hand and glared at the little finger-print expert.
“For God’s sake, let me know before you set that thing off again,” he cried in a shaking voice. “I’ve come through an experience that has shot my nerves to pieces and I can’t stand any more shocks tonight.”