“Don’t open that door,” he said huskily.
Broad looked round in surprise. The yard man’s face was tense and drawn.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know . . . just a feeling, that’s all. I’m Scot by birth . . . we’ve got a word ‘fey,’ which means something supernatural. And it says inside me, ‘don’t open that door.’ ”
Broad put down his hand.
“Are you being fey or funny?” he asked.
“If I look funny,” said Elk, “I’m entitled to sue my face for libel. There’s something at the other side of that door that isn’t good. I’ll take an oath on it! Give me that!”
He took the key from the unwilling hand of Joshua Broad, thrust it in the lock and turned it. Then, with a quick push, he threw open the door, pushing Broad to the cover of the wall.
Nothing happened for a second, and then:
“Run!” cried Elk, and leapt for the stairs.