At the head of the stairs he paused to get his
bearings once more. Forrester's rooms were here directly at the head of
the stairs, but he had forgotten for the moment whether they were on
the right or left of the corridor; and the corridor being unlighted now
and without any sign of life left him still more undecided. It seemed,
though, if his recollection served him correctly, that the rooms had
been on the right. He moved in that direction, found the door, and
knocked; but, receiving no answer, crossed the hall again, and knocked
on the door on the left-hand side. There was no answer here, either. He
frowned a little impatiently, and returned once more to the right-hand
door. Forrester probably was up at the bank, and had not expected him
to make the run out from the city so quickly. He tried the door
tentatively, found it unlocked, opened it a little way, saw that the
room within was lighted--and suddenly, with a low, startled
exclamation, stepped swiftly forward over the threshold, and closed the
door behind him.
It was Forrester's room, this one here at the right of the corridor--his
recollection had not been at fault. It was Forrester's room, and
Forrester himself was there--on the floor--dead.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305