The announcement was too much for the frightened landlady who immediately fainted, making the situation even more realistic. Marco and the doctor lay motionless.
Out of the corner of one eye, Tom watched the
164
THE MASKED INTRUDER 165
front door. In a moment he heard a click and the door opened.
A masked man stood there. He was of medium height with dark hair. In one hand he carried what Tom assumed to be the knockout weapon-a monochromatic infrared beamer.
Stepping into the living room, he paused and surveyed the limp bodies.
Apparently satisfied, he started for the stairway.
As soon as the masked intruder had vanished up the steps, Tom crawled along the floor to the front door. Cautiously he opened it. Luck was with him. The hinges did not squeak.
Tom reached for the flashlight in his pocket and held it at arm’s length out the door. He blinked the beam three times in rapid succession. Then he sent three longer flashes, following these with three more short ones-the international signal of distress. He hoped Bud and Radnor were watching carefully and that they realized from the silence of his plea the need for extreme caution.
Tom left the door ajar, removed his shoes, and tiptoed to the stairway. He took each step with extreme care, knowing that one chance creak of a board and the intruder would come running and use the ray at close range.
“Who can he be?” Tom wondered. “Raymond Turnbull?”
Reaching the head of the stairs, he looked down 166 TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT ROBOT
a narrow hallway. A few feet ahead of him the masked stranger was kneeling before a vent in the building’s air-heating system. He had lifted the vent grill and was reaching inside, apparently groping for something.