“I’m sure I saw a light—just for an instant.”
Then something passed Kenyon. It was within a foot of him as it went by; but he could not detect even its lineaments, so impenetrable was the darkness. The footsteps were slow, cautious, and soft. His skin prickled for a moment as the nervous dread of the unknown was communicated to himself. Then the sounds died away at the other end of the hall.
“It is Anna!” Kenyon told himself this positively. “And when I suspected a rival enterprise I was correct.”
He slipped quietly within the room from which the unseen woman had just emerged. The curtains had been tightly drawn and the apartment was as inky as the hall. He feared to flash the torch, thinking that it might throw a reflection through the doorway.
“It might not be the office after all,” thought Kenyon. “If it is not I’ll have gotten myself into a devil of a mess.”
In taking the next step his hand touched a hard, polished surface; moving farther it came upon a clutter of papers, an ink-stand, pen-rack and other clerical requisites.
“A desk,” muttered the adventurer. “And a good sized, flat-top desk, at that. This is the apartment I’m after.”
Suddenly from the doorway came a sharp, crackling sound. Instantly Kenyon sank down behind the desk. Someone had scratched a match, but it had missed fire. At the second attempt it flared redly, however; Kenyon could not see who held it, for he feared to raise his head above the level of the desk. Then the nature of the flame changed and it grew steadier; footsteps sounded upon the thickly carpeted floor. They were gentle footsteps.
“Anna once more!” thought Kenyon.
He changed his position soundlessly, his ears telling upon what side of the desk the girl was about to pass. His situation was a most fortunate one. He was between the desk and the wall farthest from the door. The entire room was before him. Cautiously he lifted his head, as he felt sure, judging from the direction in which she was going, that she would not see him.