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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"The Yellow Claw"

Therefore,
only a few moments--fearful moments, certainly--need intervene, ere
he should have a companion; and within a few minutes of that time, the
police--his friends!--would be there to protect him! He recognized that
the law, after all, was omnipotent, and of all masters was the master to
be served.
There was no light in the corridor. Leaving his door ajar, he tiptoed
cautiously along toward the cave. Assuring himself once again that the
pistol lay in his pocket, he fumbled for the lever which opened the
door, found it, depressed it, and stepped quietly forward in his
slippered feet.
The unmistakable odor of the place assailed his nostrils. All was in
darkness, and absolute silence prevailed. He had a rough idea of the
positions of the various little tables, and he stepped cautiously
in order to skirt them; but evidently he had made a miscalculation.
Something caught his foot, and with a muffled thud he sprawled upon the
floor, barely missing one of the tables which he had been at such pains
to avoid.
Trembling like a man with an ague, he lay there, breathing in short,
staccato breaths, and clutching the pistol in his pocket. Certainly he
had made no great noise, but...
Nothing stirred.
Soames summoned up courage to rise and to approach again the door of
Block A.


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