Lanyard experienced a
premonition of events impending.
In addition he was keeping an eye on the door to the elevator shaft. Once
already it had opened, letting a bright window into the farther wall of the
shadowed room, discovering the figure of the maitre d'hotel in silhouette,
anxiety in his attitude. He was waiting for somebody, waiting tensely. So
were the others waiting, all that crew and their fellow workers scattered
among the guests. Lanyard told himself he could guess for whom.
Only Ekstrom was wanting to complete the circle. When he appeared--if by
chance he should--things ought to begin to happen.
If tolerably satisfied that Ekstrom would not come--not that night, at all
events--Lanyard, none the less, continued to be jealously heedful of that
doorway.
But the hula came to an end without either his vigilance or the impatience
of the maitre d'hotel being rewarded. Writhing with serpentine grace to the
edge of the illuminated area, the dancer leaped back into darkness and the
folds of a wrap held by a maid, in which garment she was seen, bowing and
laughing, when the lights again blazed up.
Pages:
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316