15
I Plunge into Deeper Waters
BEFORE APPROACHING the door, I took stock of the house. It was tall and thin, dating, so far as I could judge, from the eighteenth century. The windows were dark and shuttered, and no light was to be perceived anywhere. Finding that I could gain little information outside, I walked up to the door, a massive oak affair with a brass knocker shining dully from the centre. I remembered the signals given by Elsa in the rue Etienne Dumont, and thought it well to knock in the same manner. Accordingly I seized the knocker, gave one heavy rap, then a series of light ones, and finally two short, sharp knocks. A panel which I had not previously remarked slid sideways behind a small grille, and two eyes moved shiftily behind the bars.
"Ephesus,'' I said.
"They are no
