FROM THE SHADOWS BESIDE HIS CAR, STEPHENS watched the little man turn into the bright entranceway, and go inside.  Swiftly, Stephens followed.  He arrived at the door breathless, and took a look through the glass.

Hastily, he drew back, then edged forward again till he could just see the interior.  The Indian was standing at a magazine stand.  His back was only partially toward Stephens, and he was reading a thin newspaper which, at that near distance, Stephens saw was titled The Almirante Herald.  He saw, also, that what interested the other was the article about the arrival of Tannahill.

With a shrug, Tezlacodanal tucked the paper under his arm, and started across the spacious lobby in the general direction of the elevator.  He nodded to the elevator man, but walked past the elevator and along a brightly gleaming hallway.  He paused at a doorway about halfway down, took out a key, fumbled for a moment with the lock, and disappeared.  He did not reappear.

Stephens forced his way through a thin hedge and moved slowly along the side of the building.  He paused beside a window from which a vague light gleamed through closed venetian blinds.

The window was open, and the blinds moved gently in a quiet breeze that blew slantwise against them.  That was the only sound.  Nor was there a movement of a shadow against the light to indicate that anyone was inside.

After a determined half hour of waiting for the light to go out, Stephens began to wonder if he had estimated his distance accurately.  Was this the apartment that Tezlacodanal had entered?

He made his way rearward, pausing at each window.  The blinds were partly open and so he was able to verify that the rooms within were all part of the same suite as the first.

Stephens drew back into the shadow of an overhanging shrub, and once more waited.  Time passed slowly, and it grew steadily cooler.  The moon came up over the trees to his left, a lemon-colored slice of light that crept higher and higher in the sky.  He began to feel the eeriness of his vigil.  As a lawyer, he was earning his money the hard way.  Only the light behind the blind remained unchanged, a dim brightness, defying his purpose.  He grew restless; then he grew angry at Tezlacodanal for not going to bed; then angry at himself for believing that the continuance of the glow meant that the man was necessarily still awake.  It was that thought that brought him to action.

He approached the open window and pressing aside the blind, peered into the room.  He saw a divan, a reddish rug, a chair and an open door.  It was through this door that the light streamed.  It came from a floor lamp standing beside a desk.  There were bookshelves visible just beyond the desk and the lamp and several clay figures.