The things we do!

Yes, I am watching the place. There is a light in one or two of the rooms,
and suddenly it strikes me that she might stand at a window and see me.
"Wait," I say to the cabman, and go into the hotel again.
"Whereabouts is No. 12?"
"First floor."
"Looking out on to Raadhusgaten?"
"Yes."
"Then it must have been my sister," I say, inventing something in order to
slip past the porter.
I go up the stairs, and, to give myself no chance of turning back, I knock
at the door the moment I have seen the number. No answer. I knock again.
"Is it the maid?" comes a voice from within.
I could not answer yes; my voice would have betrayed me. I tried the
handle--the door was locked. Perhaps she had been afraid I might come;
possibly she had seen me outside.
"No, it's not the maid," I say, and I can hear how the words quiver
strangely.
I stand listening a long while after that; I can hear someone moving
inside, but the door remains closed. Then come two short rings from one of
the rooms down to the hall.


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