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door, his eyes taking in the house in a swift glance, noting that the lights were lit in the consultation room. Lights that slivered out from the closed venetian blinds.
He stood then on the front porch, his hand closing over the knob of the door.
It was locked.
He pressed the bell then and heard its clarion sound inside the house. But other than that there was nothing to be heard. A deep, ominous silence that somehow brought a feeling of panic to him. Was he too late?
And then suddenly the panel in the front of the door opened and a face peered out at him.
Fred Trent felt the blood drain from his lips. A paralysis seemed to grip his body at what he saw framed in the opening.
For it was not the face of a human being. And yet, it was not the face of an animal. It was a horrible, twisted, cat-like visage that peered out at him, furred and ugly, with bared teeth and glowing, feline eyes.
And as he looked, a sound came from the twisted lips. It was the same sound he had heard over the telephone. The sound of a growling rage.
And as the sound hit his ears, a terrible realization swept over him. For his eyes, riveted on that monstrous countenance, had registered an impossible fact upon his mind.
As twisted as it was, as horribly changed into an animal grimace, it was the face of someone he knew--the English scientist, Blair Gaddon!
And then suddenly the face vanished from the opening. And Fred Trent felt his paralysis leave him. He knew now that he should never have come alone. That he should have called the police first. That he--
The door swung open then and Trent found himself facing the thing that had been Gaddon.
He took a backward step and started to turn and run for his car and help, but he was too slow.
An arm shot out and a claw-like hand suddenly gripped his shoulder in a swift, steel-like movement. He felt himself being pulled forward and into the house, as another growl snarled from the lips of the creature.<