When it had settled itself, unperceived, in its lurking place--the Hand stole out again--closed the window-door, relocked it.
Hand or claw?
Hand of man or woman or paw of beast?
In the name of God--WHOSE HAND?
Miss Cornelia's voice from the head of the stairs broke the silence.
"All right! Put out the lights!" Dale pressed the switch.

Heavy darkness.

The sound of her own breathing.

A mutter from the Doctor.

Then, abruptly, a white, piercing shaft of light cut the darkness of the stairs--horribly reminiscent of that other light-shaft that had signaled Fleming's doom.
"Was it here ?" Miss Cornelia's voice came muffledly from the head of the stairs.
Dale considered.