"Five—no, six. Two at the front that look on the street, three along one side and one kitchen window at the back. But he couldn't get at any of them without using a long ladder, and I can't picture him taking the risk of carrying one around."
George said, "Just the same I'm going to see that all windows are closed and locked when I go up there. It's a coolish night and you can survive without ventilation for that long. How about access to or from the roof?"
"There's a trap door, but it's outside the kitchen door; if he came through it he still wouldn't be inside the flat. Besides, it's kept fastened on the inside."
"This the right block?"
"Yes. Third building from the next corner, on your right."
She started fishing in her handbag for her key and had it ready for him by the time the car stopped directly in front.
He got out and closed the door, spoke through the open window. "Don't leave the car. If he's by any chance watching from somewhere and approaches the car—if anyone approaches the car—start yelling like hell, loud enough for me to hear you up there. Not that your yelling wouldn't make him run in any case."
He left her and Ruth Fleck lighted a cigarette and waited till he came back. This time he came to her side of the car and opened the door for her. "False alarm," he said cheerfully. "Not a psycho in sight—and I checked carefully. Closets, under the bed, anywhere a man could hide."
She got out of the car. "Thanks, George. I can't tell you how much I—"
"Don't try then. And I'm not leaving you this second anyway. Escort service right to your door, and I want to hear the bolt slide when you've closed it after you. Here's your key."