The three walked out, Mr. Ridgeway slamming the door sharply after him. Then instead of turning to the elevator, he started toward the back of the corridor, and reaching a small door inserted a key and opened it on a narrow, winding stairway walled into the building. It was nothing more than a perpendicular tunnel, with a narrow staircase winding through it. Leading O’Brien and Lawrence into this dimly lighted burrow, Mr. Ridgeway, with a sharp glance down the corridor, closed the door, locked it, and motioned O’Brien, who was ahead, to ascend the stairs. He went swiftly, the others close at his heels. Up and up he went, in obedience to a whispered word from Mr. Ridgeway, until a ground glass skylight marked the end of the stairway.
“Open!” whispered Mr. Ridgeway, and with a heave of his broad shoulder O’Brien pushed the skylight up and the three emerged on the pebbled roof of the building. Replacing the skylight, O’Brien looked at his superior for further orders.
“Well,” said Mr. Ridgeway, “I told you this morning, Lawrence, that I never liked to talk unless I was in the middle of a ten-acre lot. So they are listening, are they, O’Brien? Well, we are safe here, I should think. For this time, anyway. Let us get away from these chimneys.”
They walked out into the center of the great space that indicated the size of the building, and O’Brien, picking up a pebble and tossing it as he spoke, said:
“Well, sir, it looks as though there was more in the wind than we have been bargaining for. At all events, they have shown us their hand. It is not a coincidence that so many things have happened to hamper us, and the destruction in the shops and around the hangars that has appeared merely slovenly, sinful waste, has been the work of these same dirty miscreants. You are spotted, sir, sure as sure! Known to be working with the government, and instrumental in passing messages and what not along to wherever they ought to go. What are you going to do about it? If you will excuse me for saying it, sir, I think you ought to duck.”
“Duck? Duck where?” asked Mr. Ridgeway.
“Anywhere you like, say South America, or Alaska, or there’s good shooting up at Hudson Bay or was when I was in the Mounted Police of Canada.”
“Why should I duck?” demanded Mr. Ridgeway.
“Why, sir, they have you spotted, and you are too valuable a man to this country to take any chances. Suppose they send you West?”
“Kill me, you mean?” asked Mr. Ridgeway. “Well, O’Brien, thank you, but of course you know that I will stay and take my chance. If they have me spotted as you say, why, they will spend a good deal of time watching me, and that will leave the field clear for you and Lawrence. I will have to depend on you for a good deal. For one thing, I think we had better stage a small scrap, when we go downstairs, and I will discharge Lawrence, and will order you somewhere out of range. Then we will not meet without the greatest precautions. Where are you living, O’Brien?”