The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation

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Queer! he repeated as he marched up and down. Perhaps he’s not – The quiet opening of a door close by made him lift his eyes from the carpet. In the dim light he saw a man looking out upon him – a man of an unusually thick crop of hair and with a huge beard. He stared at Allerdyke half angrily, half sulkily; then he closed his door as quietly as he had opened it. And Allerdyke, turning back to his cousin’s room, mechanically laid his hand on the knob and screwed it round. The door was open. Allerdyke drew a sharp breath as he crossed the threshold. He had stayed in that hotel often, and he knew where the switch of the electric light should be. He lifted a hand, found the switch, and turned the light on. And as it flooded the room, he pulled himself up to a tense rigidity. There, sitting fully dressed in an easy chair, against which his head was thrown back, was his cousin – unmistakably dead.