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Page 20
"A cheery fellow!" I said to myself. If only I could see who it was! But
I dare not move into that patch of yellow light from which the only view
into the scullery was afforded.
The singing stopped. Again I heard a door open. Was he going away?
Then I saw a thin shaft of light under the area door.
The next moment it was flung back and the waiter, Karl, appeared, still
in his blue apron, a bucket in either hand.
He was coming to the refuse bins.
Pudd'n Head Wilson's advice came into my mind; "When angry count up to
four; when very angry, swear." I was not angry but scared, terribly
scared, scared so that I could hear my heart pulsating in great thuds in
my ears. Nevertheless, I followed the advice of the sage of Dawson's
Landing and counted to myself: one, two, three, four, one, two, three,
four; while my heart hammered out: Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool! And
all the time I remained crouching behind the first two refuse bins
nearest the door.
The waiter hummed to himself the melody of his little ditty in a deep
bourdon as he paused a moment at the door. Then he advanced slowly
across the area.
Would he stop at the refuse bins behind which I cowered?
No, he passed them.
The third? The fourth?
No!
He walked straight across the area and went to the bin beneath the
stairs.
I muttered a blessing inwardly on the careful habits of the German who
organizes even his refuse into separate tubs.
The man had his back to the door.
Now or never was my chance.
I crawled round my friendly garbage tins, reached the area door on
tip-toe and stepped softly into the house. As I did so I heard the clank
of tin as Karl replaced the lid of the tub.
A dark passage stretched out in front of me. Immediately to my right was
the scullery door wide open. I must avoid the scullery at all costs. The
man might remain there and I could not risk him driving me before him
back to the entrance hall of the hotel.
I crept down the dark passage with hands outstretched. Presently they
fell upon the latch of a door. I pressed it, the door opened inwards
into the darkness and I passed through. As I softly closed the door
behind me I heard Karl's heavy step and the grinding of the key as he
locked the area door.
I stood in a kind of cupboard in pitch darkness, hardly daring to
breathe.
Once more I heard the man singing his idiotic song. I did not dare look
out from my hiding-place, for his voice sounded so near that I feared he
might be still in the passage.
So I stood and waited.
* * * * *
I must have stayed there for an hour in the dark. I heard the waiter
coming and going in the scullery, listened to his heavy tramp, to his
everlasting snatch of song, to the rattle of utensils, as he went about
his work. Every minute of the time I was tortured by the apprehension
that he would come to the cupboard in the passage.
It was cold in that damp subterranean place. The cupboard was roomy
enough, so I thought I would put on the overcoat I was carrying. As I
stretched out my arm, my hand struck hard against some kind of
projecting hook in the wall behind me.
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