She set her teeth
hard and looked back through the slightly misty space. An unfamiliar
feeling for a moment almost choked her. She waited until she had
vanquished it, then adjusted her mask and left the box.
CHAPTER XX
From the moment when the taxicab drove away and left her in the deserted
street, Maggie was conscious of a strange sense of suppressed
excitement, something more poignant and mysterious, even, than the
circumstances of her adventure might account for. It was exciting
enough, in its way, to play the part of a marauding thief, to find
herself unexpectedly face to face with a possible solution of the great
problem of Prince Shan's intentions. But beneath all this there was
another feeling, more entirely metaphysical, which in a sense steadied
her nerves because it filled her with a strange impression that she had
lost her own identity, that she was playing somebody else's part in a
novel and thrilling drama.
The street was empty when she inserted the little key in the front door.
There was not a soul there to see her step in as it swung open and then
softly, noiselessly, but without any conscious effort of hers, closed
again behind her. She held her breath and looked around.
The hall was round, painted white and dimly lit by an overhead electric
globe. In the centre was a huge green vase filled with great branches of
some sort of blossoms. Not a picture hung upon the walls, nor was there
any hall stand, chest, closet for coats or hats, or any of the usual
furbishings of such a place.
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