“There were no buildings on either side—only tall brick walls—and the motel itself appeared to be directly on the water. Peter got out and paid the driver in the bright light of the motel’s entrance. There were floodlights everywhere. The cab sped away; Chancellor turned and started toward the large colonial doors. “Stop where you are! Don’t move your hands!” Chancellor froze; the biting commands had come from the darkness beyond the floodlights, to the left of the entranceway. “What do you want...?” “Turn this way,” ordered the man in shadows. “Slowly! It is you. I wasn’t sure.” “Who are you?” “Not one of the maniacs. Go on inside and ask for Mr. Morgan.” “Morgan?” “Mr. Anthony Morgan. You’ll be taken to the room.” The insanity again. Anthony Morgan! Numbly, he followed the incomprehensible instructions and walked into the lobby. He approached the front desk; a tall, muscular clerk sprang to attention behind the counter. Bewildered, Chancellor asked for Mr.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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