Whispers at Dawn

As Johnny Thompson put out a hand to ring the door bell of thatbrownstone house facing the deserted grounds of the Chicago Century ofProgress and the lake, the door opened without a sound. He looked up,expecting to see a face, hear a voice, perhaps. The voice came: "Stepinside, please." But there was no face. The space before him was empty.A little puzzled, he stepped into the narrow passageway. Instantly in aslow, silent manner that seemed ominous, the door closed behind him.The place...
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As Johnny Thompson put out a hand to ring the door bell of thatbrownstone house facing the deserted grounds of the Chicago Century ofProgress and the lake, the door opened without a sound. He looked up,expecting to see a face, hear a voice, perhaps. The voice came: "Stepinside, please." But there was no face. The space before him was empty.A little puzzled, he stepped into the narrow passageway. Instantly in aslow, silent manner that seemed ominous, the door closed behind him.The place was all but dark. Certainly there was no lamp; only a curiousblue illumination everywhere. A little frightened, he put out a hand togrip the door knob. It did not give to his touch. Indeed it was immovableas the branch of an oak."Locked!" he muttered. Then for a space of seconds his heart went wild.From the wall to the right of him had flashed a pencil of white light.Like an accusing finger it fell upon something on the opposite wall. Andthat something was an eye, an eye in the wall,--or so it seemed to theboy. And even as he stared, with lips parted, breath coming short andquick, the thing appeared to wink."The eye!" he whispered, and again, "the eye!.......