He ran up a long flight of worn steps and rang the bell. The door opened after a while, and an old, disreputable woman squinted at him.
“Ike in?” he said shortly.
“Who wants him?”
“Tell him Fenner.”
The old woman slid the chain on the door and pulled it open. “Careful how you go up, mister,” she said. “Ike’s restless tonight.”
Fenner pushed past her and mounted the dark stairs.
The stench of stale cooking and dirt made him wrinkle his nose. On the first landing he rapped at a door. He heard a murmur of voices, and then a sudden hush. The door opened slowly and a slim, muscular lad with a pointed chin like a hog’s looked him over.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Tell Ike I want him. Fenner’s the name.”
The lad shut the door. Fenner heard him say something, then he pulled the door back and jerked his head. “Come on in,” he said.