Explore "Murder Runs in the Family" by Hulbert Footner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was a long time before Lance could go to sleep, consequently he was somewhat late in rising next morning. Upon running downstairs to fetch his day's supplies, he got a shock when he lifted the little suitcase on the landing. It was empty. It was the same one he had left there himself the day before.
He anxiously put his ear to the door of the president's office. There was no sound from the other side. He went slowly back upstairs, feeling that something serious was the matter. There was something different from the way it ought to be in the very atmosphere. Suddenly he realized that what he missed was the familiar clatter of the looms in the big mill. It was Sunday morning, that was all.