He was unarmed, of course. The inseparable six-shooter of the West lay at the bottom of a cabin-trunk in his bed-room. But his faculties were exerted to an extent hardly possible to men who have not lived close to wild nature. He conceived that his safety demanded the exercise not only of pluck, but of artifice. So he stepped softly to the corner by the entrance to the servants' apartments, and, standing there, sought a loose match in his waistcoat pocket, and held it against the wall, ready to light it at an instant's notice. He did not mean to sacrifice to any chivalric nonsense about sex the opening move in what might prove to be a game of life or death. The woman, or whatever it was, showed by her conduct that she was not there by some mischance capable of explanation; he would determine by her first move, by the first flash of light, how to deal with her; and, if there were others with her, her body would be his shield until he gained the outer door and staircase. And so he waited, with the alert patience of an Indian, poised on the very tip-toe of action. But as time passed, and there was no further sign of life in the corridor, the situation became over trying. He formulated a fresh plan. Behind him lay the kitchen, with its fire-irons, and thither he ran, seized a poker, then rushing out again, had the corridor, the drawing-room, every room, alight. But he saw no one. He searched each room with eager haste, but there was nothing out of the common to be discovered. The front door was closed as he had left it. He ran into the exterior lobby, and, keeping an eye on the exit, summoned the elevator. Up it came; but the porter, throwing open the doors, checked his ready salute in his alarm at the sight of "No. 7" facing him poker in hand. "Have you seen a lady go out?" demanded David. The man drew back, one hand on his lever and the other on a sliding trellis-work of iron. "N-no, sir," he stammered. "Don't be frightened," said David, sharply. "I want you to keep your wits. Some one has been in my flat--" "Is that so, sir?" "Where have you been during the last five minutes?" "Down-stairs, sir." "At the door?" "No, sir, in the back, not five yards from the lift, sir." He thought it unnecessary to mention that he had been talking to the housemaid of No. 2, in the basement on her way to the post. "So any one could have gone out without your knowledge?" "If they went by the stairs, sir." "Come in and help me to search my place again." The porter hung back. The man's sheepish face was almost comical. "Come, come," said David, "there isn't much to be afraid of now, but I tell you that some one put out the light in the corridor, and I am almost sure that I heard the stir of a woman's dress somewhere." The lift-attendant's pallor increased. "That's just it, sir," he murmured. "The others have heard it, too." "Stuff!" said David, turning on his heel. Few Britons can stand contempt. The porter followed him.