He must have heard them
somewhere, and treasured them up for just such an occasion, but
he told them in a manner that was verisimilitude itself, using
perfect English with just the trace of an accent at the right
places.
At last it was time to saunter around to the Vesper Club without
seeming to be too indecently early. The theatres were not yet
out, but my friend said play was just beginning at the club and
would soon be in full swing.
I had a keen sense of wickedness as we mounted the steps in the
yellow flare of the flaming arc-light on the Broadway corner not
far below us. A heavy, grated door swung open at the practised
signal of my friend, and an obsequious negro servant stood bowing
and pronouncing his name in the sombre mahogany portal beyond,
with its green marble pillars and handsome decorations. A short
parley followed, after which we entered, my friend having
apparently satisfied someone that we were all right.
We did not stop to examine the first floor, which doubtless was
innocent enough, but turned quickly up a flight of steps. At the
foot of the broad staircase Kennedy paused to examine some rich
carvings, and I felt him nudge me. I turned. It was an enclosed
staircase, with walls that looked to be of re-enforced concrete.
Swung back on hinges concealed like those of a modern
burglar-proof safe was the famous steel door.
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