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Updated: May 24, 2025
Heavy gates of wrought bronze guarded the front doors. The single side or service-door was similarly protected if more simply. And stout grilles of bronze barred every window on the level of the street. Now none of these could have withstood the attack of a man of ingenuity with a little time at his disposal. But Lanyard could count on only the few remaining minutes of true night.
Poised to leave his shelter and dart across the street, with his point of attack already selected, his thoughts already busy with consideration of steps to follow he checked and fell still farther back into the shadow. Something was happening in the house across the way. A man had opened the service-door and paused behind the bronze gate.
Mr Enoch Peake seized the card in both hands, and examined it; and Edwin could hear his heavy breathing. Mrs Louisa Loggerheads, a comfortable, smiling administrative woman of fifty, showed herself at the service-door, and nodded with dignity to a few of the habitues. "Missis is at door," said Big James to Mr Peake. "Is her?" muttered Mr Peake, not interrupting his examination of the card.
Nevertheless when Florence shone suddenly at the service-door, the shortness of her red-and-black velvet skirts, and the undeniable complete visibility of her rounded calves produced an uneasy and agreeable impression that Enoch Peake, for a chairman of the Mutual Burial Club, had gone rather far, superbly far, and that his moral ascendancy over Louisa Loggerheads must indeed be truly astonishing.
Jules walked to the service-door, and, merely affecting to look behind, came immediately back again. 'Mr Rocco's compliments, sir, and he regrets to be unable to serve steak and Bass to-night, sir. 'Mr Rocco? questioned Racksole lightly. 'Mr Rocco, repeated Jules with firmness. 'And who is Mr Rocco?
I had not one suspicion I was not alone until that handkerchief " "Naturally." "And you, my friend?" "I saw him enter, and followed." This was strictly within the truth: Lanyard had now no doubt Dupont and the man who had reconnoitered from the service-door were one. But it was no part of his mind to tell the whole truth to Liane.
Ignoring everything, he passed out of the impregnable Safe Deposit, with its flashing steel walls, on Simon's obedient arm. Arrived on the ground-floor, Simon managed to avoid the busy parts of the establishment, but he happened to choose a way to Hugo's private lift which led past the service-door of the Hugo Grand Central Restaurant. And Hugo, although apparently in a sort of torpor, noticed it.
Following a little wait, it swung slowly out, perhaps eighteen inches, the man advancing with it and again halting to peer up and down the street. Then quickly, as if alarmed, he withdrew, shut the gate, and disappeared, closing the service-door behind him. Listening intently, Lanyard heard no click of latch, such as should have been audible in that dead hour of hush.
I shall know in future what it means when my restaurant waiter emerges from behind the screened service-door furtively wiping his mouth. I sympathise. I too have wolfed the choice morsels from the banquet of my betters. In May, 1915, when I enlisted, the weather was beautiful.
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