s was opposite.
Having a key he did not knock but unlocked the door and stepped into the
dark hall.

"Stefani Gregor?" he called, joyously. "Stefani, my old friend, it is
I!"

Silence. But that was understandable. Either Gregor had not returned
from his labours or he was out gathering the essentials for the evening
meal. Judging from the variety of odours that swam the halls of this
human warren many suppers were in the process of making, and the top
flavour was garlic. He sniffed pleasurably. Not that the smell of garlic
quickened his hunger. It merely sent his thought galloping backward
a score of years. He saw Stefani Gregor and a small boy in mountain
costume footing it sturdily along the dizzy goat paths of the rugged
hills; saw the two sitting on some ruddy promontory and munching black
bread rubbed with garlic. Ambrosia! His mother's horror, when she smelt
his breath--as if garlic had not been one of her birthrights! His uncle,
roaring out in his bull's voice that black bread and garlic were good
for little boys' stomachs, and made the stuff of soldiers. Black bread
and garlic and the Golden Age!

After he had flooded the hall with light he began a tour of inspection.
The rooms were rather bare but clean and orderly. Here and there were
items that kept the homeland green in the recollection. He came to the
bedroom last. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door. The
lights told him why Gregor had not greeted his entering hail.

The overturned reading lamp, the broken chair, the letters and papers
strewn about the floor, the rifled bureau drawers--these things spoke
plainly enough. Gregor was a prisoner somewhere in this vast city; or he
was dead.

Hawksley stood motionless for a space. And he must remain here at least
for a night and a day! He would not dare risk another hotel. He could,
of course, go to the splendid Rathbone place; but it would not be fair
to invite tragedy across that threshold.

A ball of crushed paper at his feet attracted his attention. He kicked
it absently, followed and picked it up, his thought on other things.
He was aimlessly smoothing it out when an English word caught his eye.
English! He smoothed the crumpled sheet and read:

If you find this it is the will of God. I have been watched
for several days, and am now convinced that they have always
known I was here but were leaving me alone for some unknown
purpose. I roll this ball because anything folded and