I promptly swung the door shut and locked it. The first thing I needed, I remembered, was clothes. And the next was open air, for I'd had about enough of that house of mysteries.
I made for the bathroom, remembering the passageway lined with clothes-presses somewhere on the other side of it. Those presses, I decided, ought to show up something better than a crêpe-de-chine nightgown for street wear.
I was, of course, still in my stocking feet, so that my flight through the bathroom was noiseless. I closed and locked its door behind me, to ward off any surprises from the rear. Then I crept on to the next door, opening it as quietly as I could.
Then I stood stock-still. For I found myself confronted by something which, for a minute or two, I could not quite comprehend.
Every light in that room with its massive furniture and its sumptuous yellow brocade was on full. But that was not the cause of my consternation, for on the far side of the room, directly under the added glow of a wall-light, I saw a woman in black, with a black hat, and a black veil rolled up around its brim. Beside her^ on her left, stood a black leather club-bag. On her right, on the rug where she knelt, lay an ugly-looking blue-barreled automatic.
