“The cylindrical brass reading lamp, clipped to the head of the bed, sprayed light on his neck, past his ears, picked out rumpled twists of black hair and left his face mostly in shadow. Half a minute passed without a recurrence of sound. The tenth story room was intimately quiet. Donahue looked at the clock on the little bed-table. It was twelve-thirty. He shrugged, pyramided the coverlet with his knees, took a drag at his briar and resumed reading. Then another sound reached his ears: a scrapi...ng, like cat’s claws on wood. Then a definite thump. Donahue sat up slowly, laid aside the magazine, reached over and placed his pipe on the bed-table. He shoved big, strong feet out of bed and stood up in gray silk pajamas. He scowled at the door, a little annoyed, a little curious. He took a flat black automatic pistol from the bed-table drawer and released the safety. He held the gun negligently, like one accustomed to guns, and moved slowly on bare feet towards the door. Silently he threw the catch.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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