" There he had sought a room,
fifty-nine, as he had said.
As he came into the room, he had looked about, overcome by the
enormity of what he was about to do. He locked the door. Still, he
had not been able to avoid gazing about fearfully, as he was doing
now that we saw him.
Nothing had happened. Yet he brushed his hand over his forehead
and breathed a sigh of relief. The air seemed to be stifling him
and already he had gone to the window and thrown it open. Then he
had gazed out as though there might be some unknown peril in the
very air. He had now drawn back from the window and was
considering. He was actually trembling. Should he flee? He
whistled softly to himself to keep his shaking fears under
control. Then he started to pace up and down the room in nervous
impatience and irresolution.
As I looked at him nervously walking to and fro, I could not help
admitting that things looked safe enough and all right to me.
Kennedy folded the periscope up and we left our room, mounting the
remaining flight of stairs.
In fifty-nine we could hear the measured step of the footman.
Craig knocked. The footsteps ceased. Then the door opened slowly
and I could see a cold blue automatic.
"Look out!" I cried.
Michael in his fear had drawn a gun.
"It's all right, Michael," reassured Craig calmly. "All right,
Walter," he added to me.
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