In
that case, then, Melinoff must have gone away with the Pippin
again--that would account for there being no light. But, on the other
hand, if the Pippin had not yet arrived, and Melinoff _expected_ the
visit, it was most curious that the place was in darkness!
And then Jimmie Dale smiled a little mockingly at himself. His
deductions would perhaps have been of infinitely more value if he had
first waited to make sure of the premise on which they were based! As
a matter of fact, there _was_ a light! He had reached the front of the
little place, and peering cautiously through the window could make
out, across the black interior, a thread of light that came through
the crack of a closed door, and from what was, evidently, another room
in the rear.
Jimmie Dale's fingers closed on the heavy, cumbersome, old-fashioned
door latch, pressed it down noiselessly, and exerted a little tentative
pressure on the door itself. It was locked. A minute passed in absolute
silence, as a little steel instrument was inserted in the lock--and then
the door swung inward and was dosed again, and Jimmie Dale, rigid and
motionless, stood inside.
He was listening now for some sound, the sound of voices, or the sound
of movement from that lighted room.
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