"You must call a cab," he told her over his shoulder.
She went down into the dark hall and opened the front door. Outside the inky fog hung over the street like a blanket of soot; she heard footsteps and started when a portly policeman materialized from so much mystery. The policeman, however, was disposed to be friendly; on hearing that she required a cab he replied that as his beat took him past a rank he would send one back to Mott Street in about ten minutes. She wished that she could run away with the policeman instead of with Nurdo.
She returned to the hall and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. A clock ticked sepulchrally, and upstairs she could hear Nurdo dragging their luggage along the passage.
Moved by a sudden impulse she opened the door of the sitting;room and looked in. It was dark; she could distinguish nothing. She called her father's name, but no one replied.
"Oh, I wish I had a light!"
She took a few cautious steps into the room and stumbled over something lying upon the floor. It was the body of a man. She bent down and put her hand over his face, groping. The body belonged to Mr. Varley, who lay sprawled in a stupor upon the hearth-rug. She called him again, louder, and shook him with all her strength, but her efforts to rouse him were useless. He would not wake for many hours. And then she cried a little, and went out of the room and shut the door behind her. She sat down again on the stairs and waited for Nurdo.