They were admitted through a closely barred door into a narrow passage dimly lighted. On ascending the stairs Beatrice noted how foul the walls were with grime and grease. Various small rooms, some of which had open doors, revealed raffish individuals, and various states of disorder. The place was a den as foul as that inhabited by Mr. Fagin, and Beatrice, used to the fresh air of the country, felt ill with the tainted atmosphere. However, she suppressed all signs of disgust, as these would have made Waterloo angry, and for apparent reasons she wished to cultivate his good will.
He led her to the very top of the house, and came to another door sheeted with iron. In response to a touch on a button this opened, and pushing Beatrice in he closed it again, remaining on the outside. The girl, who was taken by surprise, tried to reopen the door, but it was fast closed, and she heard the little brute chuckle on the other side. She was caught, like a rat in a trap. It only remained for her to see if Durban was caught also--or if he exercised sufficient authority over the gang to release her when she wished to return to Kensington.
The surroundings amazed her. The corridor--it was not a narrow passage this time--was spacious, and decorated with velvet hangings. The carpet was velvet pile, and the ceiling was painted in a most delicate and artistic manner. While she was marvelling at this sight, so unexpected, a side door opened, and she beheld Major Ruck, as gigantic as ever, arrayed in a smart smoking suit.
"Just in time for afternoon tea," said the Major gallantly, and threw open the door. "Please to enter a bachelor's den, Miss Hedge."
"But Durban?" she asked, drawing back.
"I will tell you all about him," said the big man, with a bland smile. "In the meantime, as we have much to talk about and you must be faint after your long journey into these wilds, perhaps you will enter and accept my hospitality."
Beatrice cast one look at him, and entered without another word. The room was not large, but furnished with a splendour which startled her when she remembered the exterior of the house. The walls were hung with green silk, and the hangings were drawn back here and there by silver cords to show choice pictures. The ceiling was also painted, the floor was stained and covered with valuable Persian praying mats, and the furniture would have done credit to a West End drawing-room. It really looked rather like a woman's room, as there were plenty of flowers about, and on a tiny table of carved wood stood a tea equipage of silver and delicate egg-shell china.
"I have made ready for you," said the Major, drawing forward a chair to the table, and near a window which was filled in with stained glass. "I hope you like my crib. It is not so comfortable as that in the West End; but in these wilds"--he shrugged his big shoulders--"one has to put up with hardship. Will you have some tea?"
"No, thank you. I want to see Durban."
"He will be in presently."