Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/125

 flowers sang and birds bloomed—it was all the same to Val. An inert mass of unthinking, unconscious flesh, he lay crumpled up, unconscious to a busy world, in the vestibule of the house of Jessica Pomeroy.

Above him a large figure, grinning malevolently in the gloom, reared itself.