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Within, the small court was a pit of gloom roofed by the windy sky; a glass-paneled door let them in to a winding stone stair with an iron handrail that was greasy to the touch. It was upon the second floor that Miss Pilgrim halted and put a key into a door.
When she thought, though, what a poor asset her appearance had been, the color flamed in her cheeks. In Broadway she made her way to a very magnificent block of buildings, and passing inside took the lift to the seventh floor. Here she got out and knocked timidly at a glass-paneled door, on which was inscribed the name of Mr. Anthony Cruxhall.
I had evidently traversed it. Before me was a heavily curtained archway. Irritably, I pulled the curtain aside, learnt that it masked a glass-paneled door, opened this door and found myself in a small court, dimly lighted and redolent of some pungent, incense-like perfume. One step forward I took, then pulled up abruptly. A sound had come to my ears.
She would have to use her gun; perhaps even call on Lite, since Lite had followed her. She might have felt easier in her mind had she seen how Lite was standing just within the glass-paneled door behind the dimity curtain, listening to every word, and watching every expression on Art Osgood's face. Lite's hand, also, was close to his gun, to be perfectly sure of Jean's safety.
He had to wait by the door while the toast to her Majesty was proposed and the band in the screened gallery broke into "God Save the Queen"; and when the music stopped the bandmaster came in for the usual compliments. The evening was so warm and still, although it was only mid-April, that a glass-paneled door, opening on the terrace, was set ajar for air.
He mounted the last flight of stairs into an area of glass-paneled doors, behind which the creative business of the great concern was conducted.
A servant led him down a long corridor, thickly carpeted, so that his footsteps made no sound, to a room with a glass-paneled door which opened on to the garden. It was raining a little, and cold; a good fire was burning in the fireplace. Near the window, through which he had a peep of the wet trees in the mist, the two ladies were sitting.
At the bank, Luck went in at the side door which gave easy access to the office behind; and without any ceremony whatever he tapped on a certain glass-paneled door with a name printed across. He waited a second, and then turned the knob and walked briskly in, carrying camera, tripod, and the case of small attachments, and smiling his smile of white teeth and perfect assurance and much good will.
The office tenants, it was fairly obvious, were not habitual night workers, for not a ray of light came from any of the glass-paneled doors that flanked both sides of the passage. She nodded her head sharply in satisfaction. It was equally obvious that Perlmer had already gone. It would take her but a moment, then, unless the skeleton keys gave her trouble.
"Now I wonder who that person could be." She sat quite still for a moment or two, looking through the glass-paneled door. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "In any case," she declared, "I am here to lunch and I am hungry. I will not wait for Mr. Rosario. May I sit here?" He called a waiter and the extra place was very soon prepared. "If Mr. Rosario comes," she said, "we can see him from here.
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