Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/185

Rh help. I wanted to get where you could hear the rattle of a surface car and see decent every-day citizens go about on their decent every-day business.

So, with my suede shoes still under my arm, I stole along the stair-head, stopping every moment to listen and look back.

Then, tread by polished tread, I went down the flight of steps that lay before me, with the bag in my hand and my heart in my mouth.

But still I didn't see a sign of life. There wasn't a trace of house-maid, or footman, or butler in crimson-rambler get-up. It was like going down through the catacombs. And I realized, as I started on again, that I still had another flight of stairs to go down before I was on the street-level. It was a big house. And it may have been fitted up like a ducal palace with bells on. But I'd had all I wanted of it.

I got down the second flight of stairs, and was in what must have been a sort of reception-hall, When the first sound of life in all that descent came to my ears. Toward the front of this hall were heavy double doors of plate glass backed by panel curtains and grilled by scroll-work of wrought iron. And somebody was plainly coming in through those doors, from the street, with a pass-key.

I didn't wait to see who that visitor might be. I