His left hand shot out and placed what he had been fumbling for in his pocket on the other’s bare palm. "I see there’s an emergency exit over there. Would it be possible for me to get out that way?"
"Well, yes, sir; I think so."
The man hesitated; he felt a slight, a very sight, feeling of misgiving. He looked at Daisy, flushed and smiling, happy and unconcerned, and then at Mrs. Bunting. She was very pale; but surely her lodger’s sudden seizure was enough to make her feel worried. Hopkins felt the half-sovereign pleasantly tickling his palm. The Paris Prefect of Police had given him only half-a-crown—mean, shabby foreigner!
"Yes, sir; I can let you out that way," he said at last, "and p’raps when you’re standing out in the air, on the iron balcony, you’ll feel better. But then, you know, sir, you’ll have to come round to the front if you wants to come in again, for those emergency doors only open outward."
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Sleuth hurriedly. "I quite understand! If I feel better I’ll come in by the front way, and pay another shilling—that’s only fair."
"You needn’t do that if you’ll just explain what happened here."
The man went and pulled the curtain aside, and put his shoulder against the door. It burst open, and the light, for a moment, blinded Mr. Sleuth.
He passed his hand over his eyes. "Thank you," he muttered, "thank you. I shall get all right out there."
An iron stairway led down into a small stable yard, of which the door opened into a side street.
