The Daily Alaska empire., 1933-06-20
pet winding past blank doors. Moth

1 pet Wlnulng past plank uoors. Notn- ing.
 And, as it proved. those ghostly little fngerprints had never a need to be photographed and ticketed and carefully documented.
 They served their purpose wholly in their own ghostly fashion and added their own small link to the gradually accommodating sequence of the chain that was so strangely woven and was in the end so dread fully like moose.
 The incident of the door had final ly convinced me of the folly of lin- gering unarmed about those dark stretches of halls and untenanted rooms, and 1 returned speedily to the second floor and to my own room.
 Once there, in the welcome light. with the shutters open to their full est, convinced myself once and for all that the clumsy, enormous ward robe was merely an enormous. clumsy wardrobe and nothing else. and that there was no secret or hid den entrance to my room. With an aching shoulder ] emerged into the corridor. It was dusk by that time. and had an i'm pression of lights in the court be- low.
 knew, now. the general plan oi the hotel; 1 knew the locations of the various tenanted rooms; all on the second floor. had not. it Is true, penetrated the storerooms in the wing below my own room; the time had been too short.
 l knew that the switch box was exactly where Mrs. Byng had told me 1t was. and that she could scarcely have failed to recognize Sue.
 knew that the priests room was off an intersecting corridor not far from the angle where I'd caught g disturbing glimpse of a moving shadow on the previous night.
 And knew about the fingerprints which had not destroyed.
 DESIDE me was the door into D the White Salon. 1 had opened the door. remembered. in the dark ness of the night when the odor oi | tobacco smoke had reused me. ] opened 1t again and stepped inside The shutters were closed. and iI the dusk l could see little. found and pressed the switch. but there was no bulb in the high, ornate crystal chandelier.
 As my eyes adjusted themselves to the gray gloom. however. l could make out objects-carved arm chairs and sofas. and a heavy gill mirror above large fireplace. ant in one corner a great piano thai loomed up darkly. so large thai there was a sort of cavern O shadow under it.
 The Pope's piano. undoubtedly It's dark unwieldiness and the lool of waiting that an old piano al ways has-as if 1t were patiently bwaiting for the hands that had once touched it-gave the last touch o. morose somberness to the room.
 went out hurriedly. closing the door sharply behind me to shut 1T that waiting piano and those walt ing chairs. and 1 wished the dimly cavernous White Salon with 1t. musty air and its silence were at happier distance from my OWL room.
 Momentarily paused in the long narrow corridor with its closed doors on one side and It's glass wal ] on the other to look. as somehow always did pause to look. dowI linto the court and over the whole sweep of surrounding windows and encircling walls.
 Lights were on in the lobby. The light was already swaying under the entrance arch. and thus above the gate that was not yet closed Two policemen were in the court huddled under their capes and lean Ing against the inner wall. which Sheltered them to some degree from the wind.
 l. Lovschiem and Grethe were 1T ffhe lobby. could see into the par Flor. since the Night was shining there and the window facing the court yet unshuttered: Mrs. Byne and Sue were still there.
 turned and walked along the north corridor. turned into the main section of the hotel. and started again toward the corridor running to the elevator.
 1 The whole upstairs was silent and deserted and unbelievably empty. My footsteps made no sound on the carpeted corridor. Thus fl was. suppose. that as passed the closed door 10 Sues room distinct lv bad someone moving about be we'd Y.
 <" '' "or'' net be Sue. because
 "rrn her sittine there fir ''i,r.m c. Eberhartj