“You mean you’re going to spend the whole morning in that closet?”
“That’s precisely what I mean.”
“But you’ll suffocate.”
“No—you see I’ve cut a hole through. That will let in the air; besides, through it one can get an admirable view of the outer room.”
“Ah!” I said, beginning to understand. “It’s a trap!”
“Yes, a trap. Maybe we’ll catch something and maybe we won’t. What time do you usually go to lunch?”
“About one o’clock.”
“That ought to bring you here by one-thirty. Very well; lock me in and take the key with you.”
I did as he bade me, though not without some reluctance, and I confess that I thought of little else during the morning. How the hours dragged—and I pictured to myself Godfrey standing in that narrow space, cramped, half-suffocated, counting the minutes. Yet perhaps he did not find the time so long; perhaps before his eyes some drama was enacting…
One o’clock came at last, and I hurried out and took the Elevated uptown as the quickest way of getting there. It was just one-twenty when I opened my door; with a little shiver of apprehension, I inserted the key in the lock of the closet and threw back the bolt. Godfrey walked out on the instant. He was smiling, but pale with fatigue.
“If you’ve got such a thing as a nip of brandy anywhere about, Lester,” he said, sinking into the nearest chair, “I’d be infinitely obliged for it. I feel rather shaky in the knees.”
