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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"âst"

A moment later I heard the
bang of a swiftly raised window, then another, and:
"Stand clear of the door!" called a muffled voice.
A moment later Gatton came racing back again, coughing and choking
because of the fumes which arose from that supernatural fog carpeting
the passages.
The chauffeur now appeared upon the path leading from the gate to the
porch, but:
"Stay by the car!" ordered Gatton. "Don't move without instructions."
I scarcely noted his words. For I was watching the gray fog. In the
dusk I could see it streaming out, that deathly mist, and creeping
away across grass and flower-beds, right and left of the door.
"Give it a chance to clear," said Gatton; "I fancy one good whiff
would finish any man!"
Even as he spoke the words the nature of this vapor suddenly occurred
to me, and:
"The Abbey Inn!" I whispered. "The Abbey Inn!"
"Ah!" said he--"you've solved the mystery, have you? But can you
explain how this stuff comes to be floating about the floor of your
house?"
"I cannot," I confessed. "But at all costs we must go in. We must
learn the worst!"
"Yes, we'll risk it now," said the Inspector.
Close together we entered and made our way towards the study. As we
passed the door-way of the ante-room in which the telephone was
placed. I glanced, aside, and thereupon:
"My God, Gatton!" I groaned. "Look!"
He pulled up and the two of us stood, horror-stricken, rooted to the
spot, looking into the little room.


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