It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the steps of a house from which dangled 121 a sign, “Studios and Bachelor Apartments to Let.”
“What’s his name?” said the woman addressed as Lil.
“Mr. Neeland.”
By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes, found Neeland’s name, and pushed the electric button.
After a few seconds the door clicked and opened.
“Now, you’re all right!” said Lil, peering into the lighted hallway. “It’s on the fourth floor and there isn’t any elevator that I can see, so you keep on going upstairs till your friend meets you.”
“Thank you so much for your great kindness––”
“Don’t mention it. Good luck, dearie!”
The door clicked behind her, and Rue found herself alone.
The stairs, flanked by a massive balustrade of some dark, polished wood, ascended in spirals by a short series of flights and landings. Twice she rested, her knees almost giving way, for the climb upward seemed interminable. But at last, just above her, she saw a skylight, and a great stair-window giving on a court; and, as she toiled up and stood clinging, breathless, to the banisters on the top landing, out of an open door stepped Neeland’s shadowy figure, dark against the hall light behind him.