He woke with a start. There was a rush of feet in the sitting-room and then—crash!
He was out of bed in a second and into the sitting-room. Carver was nowhere to be seen and he felt by the draught that the door of the flat was wide open. He put his hand on the light switch and a voice from the darkness said:
“Don’t touch that light!”
It came from outside the door and it was Carver who was speaking.
Below came the thud of the street-door closing.
Carver came hurriedly into the room, passed him, ran to the window and looked out.
“You can put it on now,” said Carver. A red welt was slashed across his face and it was bleeding slightly.
He put up his hand and looked at it.
“That was a narrow squeak,” he said. “Yes, he’s gone. I could have taken a chance and run downstairs after the door
