A moment later he found himself on the ground floor.
“But the way out?” He whispered the words to the vast silence that was all about him. No answer came to him. Yet, even as he paused, uncertainly, a sound reached his ears.
“A watchman. In the concourse. This is the way.”
He sprang toward the stage. A mouse could scarcely have made less sound, as, gliding down the carpeted aisle, he at last reached a door at the left of the stage.
The door creaked as he opened it. With one wild start, he dashed across the gaping stage to enter a narrow passageway.
Another moment and he was before a door that led to the outer air. It was locked, from within.
With breath that came short and quick, he stood there listening intently.
“Footsteps.” He did not so much as whisper the words. “The watchman. There is need for haste.
“The lock. Perhaps there is a key. Ah, yes, here it is!”
His skilled fingers fumbled in the darkness for a moment. The light from without streamed in. The door closed. He was gone.