Trailing
his fingers along the matting covering of the wall, he retraced his
steps, came to the open door, and reentered the apartment of the dragon.
He complimented himself, fearfully, upon his own address, for he was
inspired with an idea whereby he might determine his position. Picking
his way among the little tables and the silken ottomans, he groped about
with his hands in the impenetrable darkness for the pedestal supporting
the dragon. At last his fingers touched the ivory. He slid them
downward, feeling for the great vase of poppies which always stood
before the golden image....
The vase was on the LEFT and not on the RIGHT of the pedestal. His
theory was correct; he had been groping in the mysterious precincts of
that Block B which he had never entered, which he had never seen any one
else enter, and from whence he had never known any one to emerge! It
was the fall that had confused him; now, he took his bearings anew, bent
down to feel for any tables that might lie in his path, and crept across
the apartment toward the door which he sought.
Ah! this time there could be no mistake! He depressed the lever handle,
and, as the door swung open before him, crept furtively into the
corridor.
Repeating the process whereby he had determined the position of the end
door, he fumbled once again for the keyhole.
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