He
remembered that both Jules and Rocco were distinctly above the
average height; also that they were both thin men, and could have
descended the well with comparative ease. Theodore Racksole,
though not stout, was a well-set man with large bones.
These things flashed through his mind as he gazed, spellbound, at
the mysterious movements of Rocco. The door between the
bathroom and the bedroom was wide open, and his own situation
was such that his view embraced a considerable portion of the
bedroom, including the whole of the immense and
gorgeously-upholstered bedstead, but not including the whole of
the marble washstand. He could see only half of the washstand,
and at intervals Rocco passed out of sight as his lithe hands moved
over the object which lay on the marble. At first Theodore
Racksole could not decide what this object was, but after a time, as
his eyes grew accustomed to the position and the light, he made it
out.
It was the body of a man. Or, rather, to be more exact, Racksole
could discern the legs of a man on that half of the table which was
visible to him. Involuntarily he shuddered, as the conviction forced
itself upon him that Rocco had some unconscious human being
helpless on that cold marble surface. The legs never moved.
Therefore, the hapless creature was either asleep or under the
influence of an anaesthetic - or (horrible thought!) dead.
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