He led the way to the end of a long wide hall, then turned and went down a stairs, turned again and led the way through a mystic maze of winding halls and white doors. One was open. It led into a kitchen. There was a table in the center of it upon which repined a forlorn loaf of rye bread.
"Evidently," mused Dorothy, "the owner of that rye bread went out for milk and can't find his way in again." But she had the grace not to make her observation audible.
Still the man kept on going. Was there no end to this house? At last he stopped at the bottom of a spiral flight of iron steps. "Go up here," he' said, "and walk down the hall to a white door. That's where you'll find that Whale guy if he's in."
"And if he isn't in, where will I find him?" Dorothy was about to say. However, she thought better of it. The man might imagine she was insolent.
She followed the direction implicitly only to be met by a tough proposition. There were five white doors. Which one belonged to Jimmy?
The best way to find out was to knock on the first door.
She did. There was no answer. Then she knocked again. The hall was spooky. She wished Jimmy would answer. Then she heard someone singing. It was a man's voice. He seemed in great agony. Somehow or other it reminded her of Jimmy.
She walked down to the door beyond which the commotion was occurring. She knocked loudly. Instantly the singing ceased. The next instant the door was flung open and Jimmy stood on the threshold.
"Lafayette," she said, "we are here."
"Too bad," he drawled. "Lafayette moved yesterday."
"Why don't you ask me to come in?"
"Give me time."
"I'd like to," said she. "Plenty."
"Come in anyway," he growled.
"I'll walk in," said she. "There might be better ways but I haven't the time to ponder over them. Make much of this visit, young man, because I'll never have the courage to make this mighty pilgrimage again. I feel like Stanley must have felt when he found Dr. Livingstone. This would be a
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