Out of the dark entrance to the lower dining room the bearded diplomatist
popped with the distracted look of a jack-in-the-box about to be ravished
of its young.
"Monsieur is not leaving?" he expostulated shrilly, darting forward.
Lanyard stopped him with a look whose menace was like a kick.
"I am seeing this lady to her cab," he said in a cold and level voice.
The coat-room girl emerged from her lair with an armful of wraps and furs.
Again the bearded one made as if to block the doorway.
"But, monsieur--mademoiselle--!"
Lanyard caught the fellow's arm and sent him spinning like a top.
"Out of the way, you rat!" he snapped; then to the girl: "Be quick!"
As she shouldered into a compartment of the revolving door incoherent yells
began to echo down the staircase well. At length it had occurred to those
above to utilize that means of descent.
Wedged in the wheeling door, a final glimpse of the lobby showed Lanyard
the startled, putty-like mask of the maitre d'hotel at the head of
the stairway with, beyond him, the head of one who, though in shadow,
uncommonly resembled Ekstrom--but Ekstrom as he was in the old days,
without his beard.
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