The lobby seemed deserted. The flashlight beams scanned the empty chairs and couches. The glass of the deserted cages threw back reflections.
"The keys are in there," Frank said. He vaulted the desk and scanned the numbers under the pigeon holes.
"We'd better stay down low," Jim Wilson said. "Damned if I'm going to climb to the penthouse."
"How about the fourth floor?"
"That's plenty high enough."
Frank came out with a handful of keys. "Odd numbers," he said. "Four in a row."
"Well I'll be damned," Jim Wilson muttered. But he said no more and they climbed the stairs in silence. They passed the quiet dining rooms and banquet halls, and by the time they reached the fourth floor the doors giving off the corridors had assumed a uniformity.
"Here they are." He handed a key to Wilson. "That's the end one." He said nothing as he gave Minna her key, but Wilson grunted, "For crissake!" in a disgusted voice, took Minna's key and threw it on the floor.
Frank and Nora watched as Wilson unlocked his door. Wilson turned. "Well, goodnight all. If you get goosed by any spooks, just yell."
Minna followed him without a word and the door closed.