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Updated: June 10, 2025
"This looks queer," he muttered, and held the paper up slantingly away from the gas-jet in order to examine it by what photographers call transmitted light. His brows were drawn together tightly. The sheet of paper which Green had used was an ordinary piece of writing-paper. On its rough surface Foyle had noted a slight sheen, unusual enough to attract his attention.
Up several flights of carpeted polished stairs, through draughty passages, along a broad corridor, down another passage, then into a huge, gloomy room, Bernardine followed her, a war of conflicting emotions surging through her heart at every step. "You have plenty of room, you see," said the housekeeper, lighting the one gas-jet the apartment contained.
She passed the drug-store and the fruit-stand, entered the narrow hail, where a single gas-jet flickered dimly beside the door of the elevator, and after touching the bell, stood patiently waiting. After a time she rang again, and presently, with deliberate ease and geniality, the negro who worked the elevator descended slowly, with a newspaper in his hand, and opened the door for her.
The drawback she mentioned in her own arrangements the best she could obtain for her present wage was not the cold of her hall bedroom, warmed only by the gas-jet, but that she had no suitable place for receiving men friends. She was obliged to turn to trolley rides and walks and various kinds of excursions, literally to the streets, for hospitality, when she received a man's visit.
She could be brave and calm before false accusers, before staring crowds. But here, with a dim gas-jet revealing the horror of grated bars and iron ceiling, walls and floor She sat there, hour after hour, sleepless, tearless, her brain burning, the cries of drunken prisoners in adjoining cells sounding in her ears like the shrieks of the damned. Seconds seemed moments, moments hours.
They both grinned at Rhoda Gray through the murky light supplied by a wheezy and wholly inadequate gas-jet. "Hello, Nan!" gibed the smaller of the two. "Who let you out?" "Aw, forget it!" croaked Rhoda Gray. Shluker took up the cudgels. "You close your face, Pinkie!" he snapped. "Get down to cases!
He and Narramore were walking one night in a very poor part of Birmingham, and for some reason they chanced to pause by a shop-window a small window, lighted with one gas-jet, and laid out with a miserable handful of paltry wares; the shop, however, was newly opened, and showed a pathetic attempt at cleanliness and neatness.
"Some like a flower," he said, "as near as I can make out in the dark." He looked about the huge, bare room, with its single flame shining on the page. She moved away and lighted a gas-jet on the wall, and then another. She faced about, smiling. "Will that do?" Uncle William nodded. "I like a considabul light," he said. "Yes." She drew forward a chair. "Sit down."
Without oxygen human life, as well as light, would become extinct. It is asserted that one common gas-jet consumes as much oxygen as five persons. Carbonic acid gas is the element which, in deep mines and vaults, causes almost instant insensibility and suffocation to persons subjected to its influences, and instantly extinguishes the flame of any light lowered into it.
Promptly he took the hat indoors to find out, investigating it most thoroughly by the flickering, bluish glare of the lonely gas-jet that burned in the hallway.
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