Nothing happened.
I knocked again. There was a sound of motion from behind the door, then shuffling steps, Edna Cutler’s voice sounding low and subdued saying, “Who is it, please?”
“Lighting inspector checking up on your wiring installation.”
“Well, you can’t come in.”
I said, “It’s a city ordinance. I have to check up on your wiring before you can use the lights.”
“Well, we’re using them now.”
“It’ll only take a minute. If I can’t inspect them, I’ll have to turn them off.”
She said, “Come back in an hour,” and walked away.
I knocked at the door three times after that, and got no answer.
I looked around the hall and found a fuse box halfway down the corridor; I did a little experimenting, then unscrewed a fuse and put it in my pocket. I went down the corridor. There was no ribbon of light coming out from under the door of 271.