The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. “Will you help me?” he asked. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too.
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