The awful sounds died away... then a muffled disturbance drew his
attention to a sort of square trap which existed high up on one wall
of the room, but which admitted no light, and which hitherto had
never admitted any sound. Now, in the utter darkness, he found himself
listening--listening...
He had learnt, during his duties in Block A, that each of the minute
suites was rendered sound-proof in some way, so that what took place in
one would be inaudible to the occupant of the next, provided that both
doors were closed. He perceived, now, that some precaution hitherto
exercised continuously had been omitted to-night, and that the sounds
which he could hear came from the room next to his own--the room which
opened upon the corridor that he had never entered, and which now he
classified, mentally, as Block B.
What did it mean?
Obviously there had been some mishap in the usually smooth conduct
of Ho-Pin's catacombs. There had been a hurried outgoing in several
directions... a search?
And by the accident of his returning an hour earlier than he was
expected, he was become a witness of this incident, or of its dreadful,
concluding phases. He had begun to move away from the door, but now he
returned, and stood leaning against it.
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