Terror choked the scream that rose in her throat as she felt herself falling. For what seemed a long moment of time she struggled frantically to regain her balance, then she crashed over backwards, her head and shoulders meeting the carpeted floor with a violence that turned her sick and faint. She lay there for a moment too stunned to move, then the realization that she was helpless and alone with a dangerous lunatic made her straggle desperately to get to her feet. She was dimly aware that a shadowy figure was standing over her and she gave a thin wail of terror as her muscles refused to respond. Then the tray with its contents of crockery and food smashed down on her upturned face.
The woman on the second floor began to laugh again. It was still as mirthless and as idiotic as the laugh of a hyena.
Joe, lifting his shoulders as if he expected a blow at the back of his head, hurried down the dark passage, down a flight of stairs to the basement of the building. He was glad to reach his bedroom, which he shared with Sam Garland, Dr. Travers’s chauffeur. Garland, still in his shirt and trousers, lay under a blanket on his small cot. His broad, good-tempered face was up-tilted to the ceiling, his eyes were closed.
‘What a night!’ he said when Joe came in. ‘I don’t remember it so bad in years.’
‘And creepy, too,’ Joe said, going over to the fireplace and sitting in the armchair. ‘There’s a judy upstairs laughing and screaming her head off. Got on my nerves.’
‘I heard her. Suppose she got loose and crept down here while we were asleep?’ Garland said, hiding a grin. ‘Ever thought of that, Joe? She might come in here in the dark with a carving-knife and cut our throats while we slept. That’d give her something to laugh at, wouldn’t it?’
‘Shut up!’ Joe said with a sudden shiver. ‘What are you trying to do — give me goose-flesh?’
‘A dame did that once here,’ Garland lied, relaxing on his soiled pillow. ‘She got into one of the nurse’s rooms with a razor. They found her playing football with the nurse’s head up and down the corridor. That was before you came.’
‘You’re lying,’ Joe said angrily. ‘Pipe down! I tell you my nerves are shot tonight.’
‘I was only telling you,’ Garland grinned, closed his eyes again. ‘You want to take it easy. This is a good job if you take it easy.’
‘My luck,’ Joe said, scratching his head. ‘I gotta date with that blonde nurse on floor one at eight. I don’t reckon I’ll be happy with her out in the dark.’
‘Oh, that one,’ Garland said scornfully. ‘She makes dates with all the new hands. She ain’t so hot.’
‘She’s got a sweet disposition in the back of a car,’ Joe said. ‘I had a dress rehearsal a couple of nights back. That dame’s keen.’
‘That’s her trouble,’ Garland said. ‘She’s too keen.’
But Joe wasn’t listening. He sat forward, stared at the door.
‘What’s biting you now?’ Garland asked, puzzled.
‘There’s someone outside,’ Joe whispered.
‘Maybe it’s a mouse or your blonde destiny getting impatient,’ Garland said with a grin. ‘Why shouldn’t there be someone outside, anyway?’
But the look of uneasy fear in Joe’s eyes startled him and he sat up and listened too.
Outside a board creaked, then another. A sliding sound, a hand touching the wall, came nearer.
‘Maybe it’s Boris Karloff,’ Garland said, but his grin was fixed. ‘Have a look, Joe. See who it is.’
‘Have a look yourself,’ Joe whispered. ‘I wouldn’t go out there for a hundred bucks.’
Neither man moved.
A hand fumbled at the door, a board creaked again, then a sudden patter of feet on the wooden floor outside brought both men to their feet: Garland throwing off his blanket, and Joe kicking back his chair. A moment later the back door slammed, and a great rush of cold air came up the passage.
‘Who was it?’ Joe said, starting back.
‘Only someone going out, you dope,’ Garland growled, sitting on the bed again. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re making me jumpy now.’
Joe ran his fingers through his hair.
‘I’ve got the jitters tonight,’ he said. ‘It’s that dame yelling her head off and the storm.’ He still listened, still stared at the door.
‘Quit getting your vitamins in an uproar,’ Garland said sharply. ‘They’ll be putting you in a padded cell next.’
‘Listen!’ Joe said. ‘Do you hear that? It’s the dog. Listen to him.’
Somewhere in the garden a dog began to howl mournfully. The sound was caught up and swept away by the wind.
‘Why can’t the dog howl if it wants to?’ Garland demanded uneasily.
‘Not like that,’ Joe said, his face set. ‘A dog only makes a noise like that when he’s scared bad. Something out there’s frightening him.’
They listened to the mournful howling of the dog, then Garland gave a sudden shiver.
‘You’re getting me going now,’ he said angrily, got up, peered out of the window into the wet darkness. ‘There’s nothing to see. Shall we go down and give him something to howl about?’
‘Not me,’ Joe said, sat down again. ‘Not out there in the dark; not for any money.’
A new sound — the shrill ringing of a bell — brought him to his feet again.
‘That’s the alarm!’ Garland shouted, snatching up his coat. ‘Come on, Joe, we gotta get up there quick.’
‘Alarm?’ Joe said stupidly. He felt a chill run up his spine into the roots of his hair. ‘What alarm?’
‘One of the nuts is loose,’ Garland bawled, pushing past Joe to the door. ‘Whether you like it or not, you’re going out there into the dark now.’
‘That’s what we heard — why the dog’s howling,’ Joe said, hanging back.
But Garland was already running down the passage, and Joe, scared to be on his own, blundered after him.
Above the flurry of the wind and the rain the dog howled again.
Sheriff Kamp wooshed water from his black slouched hat, followed the nurse into Dr. Travers’s office.
‘Hear you have trouble up here. Doc,’ he said, shaking hands with a tall, angular man who crossed the room to meet him. ‘One of your patients got loose, huh?’
Travers nodded. His deep-set eyes were anxious.
‘My men are out looking for her now,’ he said, ‘but we’ll need all the help we can get. It’ll be nervy work; she’s dangerous.’
Sheriff Kamp pulled at his straw-coloured, tobacco-stained moustache. His pale eyes looked startled.
‘Is that right?’ he said slowly.
‘I’m in a very awkward position,’ Travers went on. ‘If this gets into the newspapers it could ruin me. She was the one patient I had no business to lose.’
‘I’ll help if I can, Doc,’ Kamp said, sitting down. ‘You can rely on me.’
‘I know,’ Travers said, pacing up and down, and went on abruptly: ‘The patient is John Blandish’s heiress. Does that mean anything to you?’
Kamp frowned.
‘John Blandish? The name’s familiar. You don’t mean the millionaire fella whose daughter was kidnapped some twenty years ago?’
‘That’s right. We’ve got to get her back before anyone knows she’s escaped. Look at the publicity that followed Blandish’s death last year. If this leaks out it’ll start all over again and I might just as well close down.’
‘Take it easy, Doc,’ Kamp said quietly. ‘We’ll get her back.’ He pulled at his moustache, went on: ‘You say she’s Blandish’s heiress? What was he doing leaving his money to a lunatic? Doesn’t make sense.’
‘She was his illegitimate grand-daughter,’ Travers said, lowering his voice. ‘And that’s for your information only.’