A blast of air from the outside storm instantly blew out both the lamp in Trant’s hand and another which had been burning in the room. Siler and the patrolman, swearing softly, felt for matches. The psychologist ran to the window, which was open and gazed intently into the night. After a moment, he closed it and turned to look about the room in the light of the lamp which Siler had succeeded in lighting.
This room which Mrs. Newberry had called the billiard room, he saw was really a storeroom, littered with an accumulation of old rubbish and furniture, the arrangement of which showed plainly that the room had recently been fitted for occupancy. That the occupant had taken care to conceal himself, heavy sheets of brown paper pasted over the panes of all the windows—including that which Tra
