Garth wondered that in that fantastic light the girl's manner should set a cold anxiety rippling along his own nerves. He looked with an unnatural curiosity at the place which she had indicated.
Evidently she had yielded to an excess of terror. In spite of George's command she was trying to pass the lamp to Garth. It slipped from her fingers, and the white shaft circled swiftly downwards. She caught the handle before it reached the floor, but now the only light in the room was a narrow circle which bored into the carpet and exposed a dark, irregular stain.
Nora cried chokingly.
"Blood! George! That's his blood!"
Cursing, George reached forward, caught her arm, and swung the light away from this desolate reminder of tragedy.
"No wonder!" she whispered. "No wonder Slim didn't have the nerve to come back and do those same things. He'd have seen the man he'd killed between him and his work."
Garth could scarcely catch her voice.
"If I thought you had that much nerve, George, I might—I believe I might—"
She broke off abruptly. George stared at her, then turned back and fumbled for the knob.
"Try to keep the light steady, Nora."