With this in her mind she opened the front door and stepped into the hall, always lighted with ominous dimness.

That gloom fell about her like the visible presence of John Mark.
A squat, powerful figure glided out of the doorway to the right.

It was Harry Morgan, and the side of his face was swathed in bandages, so that he had to twist his mouth violently in order to speak.
"The chief," he said abruptly.

"Beat it quick to his room.

He wants you." "Why ?" asked Caroline, hoping to extract some grain or two of information from the henchman.
"Listen, kid," said the sullen criminal.