Dead silence reigned.

And then quickly and decidedly the door opened, and Nick Ratcliffe stood upon the threshold.

The light struck full upon his face as he halted--a clever, whimsical face that might mask almost any quality good or bad.
"May I come in, Miss Roscoe ?" he asked.
For she had not moved at his appearance.

She lay as one dead.

But as he spoke she uncovered her face, and terror incarnate stared wildly at him from her starting eyes.