I pushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been
occupied!

"He must be in Mr. Bailey's room," I said excitedly, and followed
by Liddy, we went there. Like Halsey's, it had not been
occupied! Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against
the door for support.

"They have been killed!" she gasped. Then she caught me by the
arm and dragged me toward the stairs. "They may only be hurt,
and we must find them," she said, her eyes dilated with
excitement.

I don't remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember
expecting every moment to be killed. The cook was at the
telephone up-stairs, calling the Greenwood Club, and Liddy was
behind me, afraid to come and not daring to stay behind. We
found the living-room and the drawing-room undisturbed. Somehow
I felt that whatever we found would be in the card-room or on the
staircase, and nothing but the fear that Halsey was in danger
drove me on; with every step my knees seemed to give way under
me. Gertrude was ahead and in the card-room she stopped, holding
her candle high. Then she pointed silently to the doorway
into the hall beyond. Huddled there on the floor, face down,
with his arms extended, was a man.

Gertrude ran forward with a gasping sob. "Jack," she cried, "oh,
Jack!"

Liddy had run, screaming, and the two of us were there alone. It