AUKTOBKA Blore sat up on the bed, suddenly alert. For he had heard a sound - a very faint sound - somewhere outside his bedroom door. There was someone moving about in the darkened house. The perspiration broke out on his forehead. Who was it, moving secretly and silently along the corridors? Someone who was up to no good, he'd bet that! Noiselessly, in spite of his heavy build, he dropped off the bed and with two strides was standing by the door listening. But the sound did not come again. Nevertheless, Blore was convinced that he was not mistaken. He had heard a footfall just outside his door. The hair rose slightly on his scalp. He knew fear again... Someone creeping about stealthily in the night. He listened — but heard nothing. And now a new temptation assailed him. He wanted, desperately, to go out and investigate. Ifhe could only see who it was prowling about in the darkness! But to open his door would be the action of a fool. Very likely that was exactly what the other was waiting for. He might even have meant Blore to hear what he had heard, counting on him coming out to investigate. Blore could hear sounds everywhere now, cracks, rustles, mysterious whispers - but his dogged realistic brain knew them for what they were - the creations of his own heated imagination. And then suddenly he heard something that was not imagination. Footsteps, very soft, very cautious, but plainly audible to a man listening with all his ears as Blore was listening. Blore made up his mind. He meant to see who it was!