Ted lay speculating which was dead and which had escaped, but he could
make nothing of it.
The night dragged wearily on for Ted could not sleep, for thinking of
the dead man in the next room, and his own precarious position.
He reviewed the chances of his being rescued. They were very slim,
indeed.
Bud and Chief Desmond would start a hunt for him about the city, but
would not find him, and no one would think of looking for him in this
deserted house.
But at last the night passed, and Ted watched with a grateful heart the
gradual dawning of the day.
At last it was light enough to see, and he looked around the room.
It was old-fashioned and high. Through the window he could see a bit of
the high brick fence, and a few trees and long, tangled, dead grass.
That was the extent of his view from the window.
He examined the door, which was the only other means of exit from the
room.
It was very heavy, and made of oak. The lock on it was massive and
old-fashioned, and set into the oak frame so that an examination of it
dispelled all hope of getting it off.
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