“Your friend Angel’s method of gaining admittance to the haunt of the ‘Borough Lot’ was not original. Come.”
Jimmy stepped gingerly through into the darkness. He heard the snap of a button, and a soft glow of light revealed a tiny chamber, in which two men might comfortably stand upright. The back of the wardrobe closed, and they were alone in a little room about as large as an average cupboard.
There was a steel lever on one side of the walls, and this the lawyer pulled cautiously. Jimmy felt a sinking sensation, and heard a faint, far-off buzzing of machinery.
“An electric lift, I take it,” he said quietly.
“An electric lift,” repeated the lawyer.
Down, down, down they sank, till Jimmy calculated that they must be at least twenty feet below the street level. Then the lift slowed down and stopped at a door. Spedding opened this with a key he took from his pocket, and they stepped out into a chill, earthy darkness.
“There’s a light here,” said the lawyer, and groped for the switch.
They were in a large vaulted apartment lit from the roof. At one end a steel door faced them, and ranged about the vault on iron racks a number of black japanned boxes.
Jimmy noted the inscriptions, and was a little surprised at the extent and importance of the solicitor’s practice. Spedding must have read his thoughts, for he turned with a smile.
“Not particularly suggestive of a defaulting solicitor,” he said ironically.