CHAPTER IX

THE MAN WITH THE EYES

“HERE we are,” declared Larkin, with a slight smile.

Margaret Glendenning breathed a sigh of relief. She had been totally perplexed by the strange trip that she had taken with her uncle’s secretary.

The ride up in the elevator had been an unusual experience. They had traveled slowly, for many feet, up through a shaft that seemed cut in a solid pillar. Stepping out, they had passed through another dimly lighted corridor, with a black entrance at the side. Then through a small room, completely dark.

At last, down steps, which wound in a narrow spiral, where Larkin had preceded her, to show the way. Then a sliding door had opened, and they had entered a small room, papered with a grotesque design. The door had closed behind them.

They stood there, in a room that seemed to have no outlet — save that through which they had come. Then the room itself moved upward at a snail’s pace until it came to a stop.

So here they were waiting in what seemed to be a doorless box.