The Circular Staircase

"Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The architect that

put up this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold Armstrong and his

friends could sit here and play cards all night and stumble up to bed

in the early morning, without having the family send in a police call."

Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the lights.

I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the veranda, and

examined the windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a little less

nervous now, had just pointed out to me the disgracefully dusty

condition of the hard-wood floor, when suddenly the lights went out.

We waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright, or she would

have screamed. And then I clutched her by the arm and pointed to one

of the windows opening on the porch. The sudden change threw the

window into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figure

standing close, peering in. As I looked it darted across the veranda

and out of sight in the darkness.