I whipped out my handkerchief, wrapped it round my right hand, and started in to dust that room as no chambermaid had ever dusted it in all its memory. Each piece of wood which I might have touched in the past week received a quick vigorous swipe. Each glass and porcelain surface in the bathroom. Everything. The door knob. The glasses. Is that all? The window, which I'd raised a few times. Is that all? It that all?
I believed it was. I snatched up the Gladstone and with the cloth still around my hand I opened the door and slipped into the corridor.
Close the door, son. That'll halt them for a precious two seconds.
Down the corridor, around the first turn....
Safe, for the moment, safe!
And now what? Here was a flight of stairs. And in the distance I heard a lift door open.
Down the stairs I rushed, and was on the third floor.
Running for another flight, a different one, with a vague thought of confusing my trail, I stumbled and almost fell. Recovering, I fled down these, on down, down, down.
I was on the ground floor at last. The men's bar lay before me. The lobby was far away in the front of the building.
I straightened my tie, tried to appear like an eccentric who always carried a large brown bag with him, and paced into the bar.