"I suppose you insist on my walking first," Lucas sneered.
"I request it, monsieur."
"With all the willingness in the world," his rogue-ship answered, setting foot straightway on the stair and mounting steadily, never turning to see how near we followed, or what we did with our hands. His trust made me ashamed of our lack of it. I almost believed we did him injustice. Yet at heart I could not bring myself to credit him with any fair dealing.
We went up one flight, up two. We had left behind us the twilight of the lower story, had not reached dawn again at the top. We walked in blackness. Suddenly I halted.
"Monsieur!"
"What?"
"I heard a noise."
"Of course you did. The place is full of rats."
"It was no rat. It was footsteps."
We all three held still.