Page:Arthur Stringer - The Door of Dread.djvu/94

. And she kept warning herself to be careful, for she knew, from the faint tinkle of that phone-bell, that it was merely a private circuit operated from a dry-cell or two. This meant that from some other quarter in that place of mystery Keudell was being told things which could not be to her advantage.

So she sat watching him, without movement, for he was now talking quickly and not quite so calmly as before. She had no means of even guessing at what his words meant, since they were in a language quite unknown to her. So she watched him with veiled and non-committal eyes as he hung up the receiver, sat leaning forward over the table for a moment or two in deep thought and then looked up at her again. He was even able to indulge in a half-ironic smile as he spoke.

"So you were sent here for work?" he purred, stroking his yellow mustache.

"Yes, sir," was her studiously patient answer.

"Have you any references?" he demanded.

That question sent a sudden tingle through her. It was not one of fear; it was more the faint thrill of hope that comes to the shipwrecked at the sight of a sail on the horizon.

"Yes, sir!"