The chain fell, and the door opened as if the Frenchwoman, challenged, had given the countersign. Simone squeezed through the small space allowed her, and the door instantly shut.
It was dark in the basement passage except for the light that came from a room at the back. The woman—the janitor's wife, perhaps—had a little knitted shawl over her head, as though she were suffering from neuralgia. Simone could not see what she was like, whether old or young, except that her silhouette loomed tall and slender against the dim light.
"Can you find your way up?" asked the voice.
"Yes," said Simone, "I was told it would be dark,—and that I must bring an electric torch. I have brought it."
"Very well. Go up, and knock when you come to the door. Mr. Jones is expecting you."
Simone switched on the flame of her torch, and went up.
CHAPTER XI
IN JACK'S PRIVATE SITTING ROOM
Next morning Jack Manners was hideously jerked from sleep before eight by the jangle of a telephone bell close to his bed. In self-defence he reached out and grabbed the receiver, in haste to stop the din.
"Hello!" his voice said: but his tone said "Damn!" And he was astounded when Juliet answered. Juliet! 'phoning at this hour! Juliet, who had been at the opera last night, as he happened to know, and who had always loved her beauty sleep, as a young bird loves its nest!