For an instant his eyes wandered. Beyond her presence the room was
empty. He saw a door, and observed that it opened into another room,
which in turn could be entered through the platform door behind him.
With his old exactness for detail he leaped to definite conclusion.
These were Meleese's apartments at the post, separated from all
others--and Meleese was preparing to retire for the night. If the outer
door was not locked, and he entered, what danger could there be of
interruption? It was late. The post was asleep. He had seen no light but
that in the window through which he was staring.
The thought was scarcely born before he was at the platform door. The
latch clicked gently under his fingers; cautiously he pushed the door
inward and thrust in his head and shoulders. The air inside was cold and
frosty. He reached out an arm to the right and his hand encountered the
rough-hewn surface of a wall; he advanced a step and reached out to the
left. There, too, his hand touched a wall. He was in a narrow: corridor.
Ahead of him there shone a thin ray of light from under the door that
opened into Meleese's room. Nerving himself for the last move, he went
boldly to the door, knocked lightly to give some warning of his
presence, and entered.
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