As he opened it, I had a glimpse of a narrow court beyond; then the door was closed again ... and I found myself thinking of the peculiar eyes of the departed visitor. Even through the thick pebbles of his spectacles, although for some reason I had thought little of the matter at the time, his oddly contracted pupils were noticeable. As the girl, in turn, rose and left the café--but by the ordinary door--I turned to Smith. "That man ..." I began, and paused. Smith was watching covertly, a Hindu seated at a neighboring table, who was about to settle his bill. Standing up, the Hindu made for the coffee counter, the swarthy man appeared out of the background--and the Asiatic visitor went out by the door opening into the court. One quick glance Smith gave me, and raised his hand for the waiter. A few minutes later we were out in the street again. "We must find our way to that court!" snapped my friend. "Let us try back, I noted a sort of alley-way which we passed just before reaching the café." "You think the hashish den is in some adjoining building?" "I don't know where it is, Petrie, but I know the way to it!" Into a narrow, gloomy court we plunged, hemmed in by high walls, and followed it for ten yards or more. An even narrower and less inviting turning revealed itself on the left. We pursued our way, and presently found ourselves at the back of the Café de l'Egypte. "There's the door," I said. It opened into a tiny cul de sac, flanked by dilapidated hoardings, and no other door of any kind was visible in the vicinity. Nayland Smith stood tugging at the lobe of his ear almost savagely. "Where the devil do they go?" he whispered. Even as he spoke the words, came a gleam of light through the upper curtained part of the door, and I distinctly saw the figure of a man in silhouette. "Stand back!" snapped Smith. We crouched back against the dirty wall of the court, and watched a strange thing happen. The back door of the Café de l'Egypte opened outward, simultaneously a door, hitherto invisible, set at right angles in the hoarding adjoining, opened _inward!_ A man emerged from the café and entered the secret doorway. As he did so, the café door swung back ... and closed the door in the hoarding! "Very good!" muttered Nayland Smith. "Our friend Ismail, behind the counter, moves some lever which causes the opening of one door automatically to open the other. Failing his kindly offices, the second exit from the Café de l'Egypte is innocent enough. Now--what is the next move?" "I have an idea, Smith!" I cried. "According to Morrison, the place in which the hashish may be obtained has no windows but is lighted from above. No doubt it was built for a studio and has a glass roof. Therefore----" "Come along!" snapped Smith, grasping my arm; "you have solved the difficulty, Petrie." CHAPTER XXV THE HOUSE OF HASHISH