Innesmore Mansions arranged its roomy flats in blocks of six, and he occupied No.

18.
He held a florin in readiness; the rain, now falling heavily, did not encourage any loitering on the pavement.

For all that, he saw out of the tail of his eye that the other man was approaching, though he had paused to examine the numbers blazoned on a lamp over the first doorway.
"Good night, sir, and thank you!" said the taxi driver.
The cab made off as Theydon ran up a short flight of steps.

Innesmore Mansions did not boast elevators.

The flats were comfortable, but not absurdly expensive, and their inmates climbed stairs cheerfully; at most, they had only to mount to a second storey.