The marble slabs of the vestibule echoed strangely to their footsteps--those slabs that shake from dawn to dark with the tread of countless feet. They moved rapidly toward the elevator-shaft, passing on their way deserted cigar- and news-stands shrouded in dirty brown clothes. By the dark and silent well, where the six elevators (of which one only was a-light and ready for use) stood motionless as if slumbering in utter weariness after the gigantic exertions of the day, they came to a halt; and a chair was scraped noisily on the floor as a night-watchman rose, rubbing his eyes and yawning, to face them. Anisty opened the interview brusquely. "Is Mr. Bannerman in now?" he demanded. The watchman opened his eyes wider, losing some of his sleepy expression; and observed the speaker and his companion--the small, shrinking, frightened-looking little woman who bore so heavily on her escort's arm, as if ready to drop with exhaustion. It appeared that he knew Maitland by sight, or else thought that he did. "Oh, ye're Mister Maitland, ain't yous?" he said. "Nope; if Misther Bannerman's in his offis, I dunno nothin' about it." "He was to meet me here at two," Anisty affirmed. "It's a very important case. I'm sure he must be along, immediately, if he's not up-stairs. You're sure--?" "Nah, I ain't sure. He may've been there all night, f'r all I know. But I'll take yous up 'f you want," with a doubtful glance at the girl. "This lady is one of Mr. Bannerman's clients, and in great trouble." The self-styled Maitland laid his hand in a protecting gesture over the fingers on his arm; and pressed them cruelly. "I think we will go up, thank you. If Bannerman's not in, I can 'phone him. I've a pass-key." The watchman appeared satisfied: Maitland's social standing was guaranty enough. "All right, sir. Step in." The girl made one final effort to hang back. Anisty's brows blackened. "By God!" he told her in a whisper. "If you dare...!" And somehow she found herself at his side in the steel cage, the gate's clang ringing loud in her ears. The motion of the car, shooting upwards with rapidly increasing speed, made her slightly giddy. Despite Anisty's supporting arm she reeled back against the wall of the cage, closing her eyes. The man observed this with covert satisfaction. As the speed decreased she began to feel slightly stronger; and again opened her eyes. The floor numbers, black upon a white ground, were steadily slipping down; the first she recognized being 19. The pace was sensibly decreased. Then with a slight jar the elevator stopped at 22. "Yous know the way?" "Perfectly," replied Anisty. "Two flights up--in the tower." "Right. When yous wants me, ring." The car dropped like a plummet, leaving them in darkness--or rather in a thick gloom but slightly moderated by the moonlight streaming in at windows at either end of the corridor. Anisty gripped the girl more roughly. "Now, my lady! No shennanigan!"