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of them edged over to the door, and Ethel put her ear against it, face twisted with concentration.
    â€œI don’t hear anything,” she whispered.
    â€œMaybe he’s not there anymore,” Harry said hopefully.
    â€œThen where is he?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Harry whispered pettishly. “Are all the other doors locked?”
    â€œYes. They—”
    They both recoiled against each other as a door down the hall suddenly opened.
    David Boutelle did not see them. He walked along the hall briskly and turned right onto the staircase. They heard the sound of his descending boots.
    â€œM-Mister Boutelle,” mumbled Harry.
    Ethel drew in a deep breath.
    â€œ
Open the door
,” she said.
    â€œYes,” he said, although his mind said
no.
    The hand he slid into his pocket was cold and shaking. Hisfingers twitched when they touched the key. He drew it out and slipped it into the keyhole. It rattled there.
    â€œShh!” hissed Ethel.
    Harry closed his eyes. “Will you—?” he began to request.
    â€œOpen it fast,” said Ethel.
    And be ready to use your gun, Harry’s mind completed the instruction. He drew in a ragged breath. Through the open window at the end of the hall, he could hear the rustling fall of rain, the clopping of a horse’s hooves as it passed the hotel. All right, mister, his mind began again, put your hands up. You can’t go breakin’ into this hotel without—
    He shoved the door open and jumped in quickly, gun raised to fire.
    The room was empty.
    It was not until immediate fear had gone that the discomfiture of the earlier dread returned. If the man was not in here or in the hall, if he could not possibly have jumped from the window to the street—
where was he
?
    Harry stood in mute perplexity while his wife stepped over to the light bracket on the wall and turned up the flame.
    The room seemed truly empty. Harry closed his eyes and shivered. What in the blue blazes of merry hell, he thought, is going on?
    â€œWell, he must have gone out the window then, that’s all,” he said, trying to push down the fear rising inside him.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œWho knows why?” he anticipated her. “Maybe he heard us coming up the stairs and got scared. Who knows? But he sure ain’t in here.”
    â€œHarry, the . . . ” Ethel swallowed with effort. “The . . . closet,” she said.
    Harry could not repress the groan in his chest. Was there to beno end to the woman’s alarms? Well, he was getting tired of this, he told himself casually, as if his heart were not threatening to discharge itself from place. Striding quickly to the closet door, he flung it open.
    It was empty.
    â€œThere,” he said. “Now let’s stop this nonsense.” He was so relieved that, for a second, the room swam before his eyes.
    â€œWell . . .” she murmured indecisively.
    â€œEthel, he ain’t
in
here,” Harry said, feeling a bolt of dread that she might start telling him to look under the bed, look behind the armchair over by the window, look behind . . .
    â€œI . . . guess not,” Ethel said.
    â€œCome on, let’s go.”
    Ethel turned down the flame, and they went out into the hall again.
    â€œShut the window,” she told him as he closed the door and relocked it carefully. She started down the hall, muttering to herself, “I still can’t see how anyone could jump from that high.”
    â€œWell, he did,” said Harry. And, by Christ, he was going to believe it, too.
    When the door had closed and dark silence filled the room again, the man lifted the window and stepped inside.
    He stood for a moment beside the armchair, looking around. Behind him, down in the street, a horse was trotting by and he twitched his head around. He looked at the street, raindrops inching slowly down his cheeks.
    When the horse had gone,