He glanced up the stairs--were those her footsteps now?
He peered more closely into the darkness.
An expression of surprise and apprehension came over his face.
He glanced swiftly at Dale--was she watching him?
No--she sat in her chair, musing.

He turned back toward the stairs and made a frantic, insistent gesture--"Go back, go back!" it said, plainer than words, to--Something--in the darkness by the head of the stairs.

Then his face relaxed, he gave a noiseless sigh of relief.
Dale, rousing from her brown study, turned out the floor lamp by the table and went over to the main light switch, awaiting Miss Cornelia's signal to plunge the room in darkness.

The Doctor stole, another glance at her--had his gestures been observed ?--apparently not.
Unobserved by either, as both waited tensely for Miss Cornelia's signal, a Hand stole through the broken pane of the shattered French window behind their backs and fumbled for the knob which unlocked the window-door.

It found the catch--unlocked it--the window-door swung open, noiselessly--just enough to admit a crouching figure that cramped itself uncomfortably behind the settee which Dale and the Doctor had placed to barricade those very doors.