Page:Flying Death.pdf/128

 Bane smiled at me, as the elevator stopped and the three of us stepped into a lighted hall with long rows of office doors showing lighted transoms. "Cawder and Company, Investments. Entrance" read the lettering on the door directly before us.

"This is our name on this floor," Bane informed me and reminded me, "I told you I'd show you who's sane."

He opened the door, leading us into a waiting-room panelled, soft-carpeted, furnished with large leather chairs and a desk at which a demurely dressed but alert-looking girl sat in attendance.

She spoke to Bane who asked: "Mr. Cawder alone?"

"He has just heard you're here."

"I'll send for these people in a minute," Bane said to her and with no word to us, he opened a further door and disappeared, leaving us alone with the girl at the desk. Behind us, only the door through which we had entered and the hallway and the elevators of "their" building.

I could take his complete carelessness as a