Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. “Forgive me, madam,” he said stiffly, “but in such a case as this it is better that nothing in the room should be disturbed until the arrival of the police. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. “Well, he’s really smart. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down.
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