[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales January 1930. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The murderer's hair lifted at the back of his neck. A crawling sensation spread down his spine. There was something moving in the room! It was pitch-dark, with vague rectangles of faint grayishness where windows opened upon the rainy night outside. The murderer had left this room half an hour before, maybe only twenty minutes before. He'd gone plunging away through the darkness, knowing that before dawn the rain would have washed away the tire-tracks of his car. And then …
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