"29, 31, 33," he counted, "35, 37. Here we are." The corridor was empty; he slipped his skeleton-key from his pocket and deftly manipulated it.
The door opened noiselessly. He was in a dark little hallway. At the end was a door, and a gleam of light shone under it. He closed the door behind him, stepped softly along the carpeted floor, and his hand was on the handle of the further door, when a sweet voice called him by name from the room.
"_Adelante_! Señor Smit'," it said; and, obeying the summons, T. B. entered.
The room was well, if floridly, furnished; but T. B. had no eyes save for the graceful figure lounging in a big wicker-chair, a thin cigarette between her red lips, and her hands carelessly folded on her lap.
"Come in," she repeated, this time in French. "I have been expecting you."
"I was told that I should probably receive a visit from you."
"First," said T. B. gently, "let me relieve you of that ugly toy."
Before she could realise what was happening, two strong hands seized her wrists and lifted them. Then one hand clasped her two, and a tiny pistol that lay in her lap was in the detective's possession.
"Let us talk," said T. B. He laid her tiny pistol on the table, and with his thumb raised the safety-catch.
"You are not afraid of a toy pistol?" she scoffed.
"I am afraid of anything that carries a nickel bullet," he confessed without shame. "I know by experience that your 'toy' throws a shot that penetrates an inch of pinewood and comes out on the other side. I cannot offer the same resistance as pinewood," he added modestly.
"I have been warned about you," she said, with a faint smile.
"So you were warned?" T. B. was mildly amused and just a trifle annoyed. It piqued him to know that, whilst, as he thought, he had been working in the shadow, he had been under a searchlight.
"You are--what do you call it in England?--smug," she said, "but what are you going to do with me?"
She had let fall her cloak and was again leaning back lazily in the big armchair. The question was put in the most matter-of-fact tones.
"That you shall see," said T. B. cheerfully. "I am mainly concerned now in preventing you from communicating with your friends."
"It will be rather difficult?" she challenged, with a smile. "I am not proscribed; my character does not admit----"