Then suddenly a curious idea came to her. It was so ridiculous that she rejected it instantly. Ridiculous--and it stood ninety-nine per cent chance of failure; offered but one per cent chance of success. Nevertheless it recurred. It offered more and more suggestion, more and more temptation. True, it was a thing barely possible; true also, that it was the only thing possible. But could she put it through? Had she the nerve? Had she the strength? She must find both the nerve and the strength. She bathed and dressed quickly and with a growing steadiness. She packed her belongings into her suitcase, put Glorious Lutie's miniature in her handbag. She sat down at her bureau and wrote a note: "If you will come to my room, after you have had your breakfast, I will talk the matter over with you. I will not leave the building before you return. I will be ready to see you at ten o'clock." She opened her door, walked across the corridor; slipped the note under the door of Byan's room. Then she hurried back; locked her door; sat down and waited, her hands clasped. Her hands grew colder and colder until they seemed like marble, but all the time her mind seemed to steady and clarify. After a long while she heard Byan's door open. She heard his steps retreating down the hall and over the stairs. Ten minutes later, Susannah appeared, suitcase in hand, at the janitor's office on the first floor. "I'm Miss Ayer in No. 9, second floor," she said. "May I leave this suitcase here? I've just thought that I wanted to go to a friend's room on the fifth floor and I don't want to lug it up all those stairs." The janitor considered her for a puzzled second. Of course he was in Byan's pay, Susannah reflected. "Sure," he answered uncertainly after a while. "I'm expecting a gentleman to call on me," Susannah went on steadily. "Tell him I'll be on the fifth floor at No. 9. My friend is out," she ended in glib explanation, "but she's left her key with me. There's a little work that I wanted to do on her typewriter." The janitor--she had worked this out in advance--must know that Room 9, fifth floor--was occupied by a woman who owned a typewriter. Susannah established that when, a few days before, she had restored to its owner a letter shoved by mistake under her own door. Susannah deposited her bag on the floor in the janitor's office. She walked steadily up the stairs to the second floor. She felt the janitor's gaze on the first flight of her progress. She stopped just before she reached her own room, glanced back. She was alone there. The janitor had not followed her. Perhaps Byan's instructions to him were only to watch the door. With a swift pounce, she ran to Byan's door, turned the knob. It opened.