If he was in such a desperate hurry to be off, though, one would have expected him to go straight down to the waiters’ room, change his clothes, and leave the prem[Pg 5]ises, but, instead of doing this, he repeated most of his curious performances of a few minutes earlier.
That is to say, he dawdled up the first flight of stairs, and then, as soon as he was out of sight of those in the entrance hall, he darted up to the fourth floor.
With catlike steps he glided to the door of room No. 25, and stood for a moment in a listening attitude.
A murmur of voices inside the room told him that Atherton and Frost were there. He could not hear what they were saying, but he had anticipated that, and that was why he had opened the window of Frost’s room.
Having satisfied himself of the whereabouts of the two, he stole to the door of number twenty-seven, adjoining, picked the lock, glided into the room, and closed the door behind him.
Groping his way softly along the dark room, he quietly opened the window and stepped out on the fire escape.
The platform of the fire escape extended from the window of number twenty-seven to that of number twenty-five, and all Max had to do was to creep along the iron grating until he was beside the window with which he had previously tampered.
When he reached it, he crouched down, hidden by the dark shade which had been drawn, and put his ear close to the crack.
He could now hear every word that was spoken, and, it was plain to be seen, it afforded him the liveliest satisfaction.
“So I was right!” he thought triumphantly, “I suspected it for some time, but now I know it. I must have some more tangible proof, though. I must see the thing done, and find out who else is in the plot. And then—farewell to the old Mar, and hurrah for a life of ease and luxury.”