Everything depended, you see, on my guess proving right.
He read aloud the number of steps in the different stairs.
'Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-nine, forty-two, forty-seven,' and 'twenty-one' where the cliffs grew lower.

I almost got up and shouted.
We hurried back to the town and sent a wire to MacGillivray.

I wanted half a dozen men, and I directed them to divide themselves among different specified hotels.

Then Scaife set out to prospect the house at the head of the thirty-nine steps.
He came back with news that both puzzled and reassured me.

The house was called Trafalgar Lodge, and belonged to an old gentleman called Appleton--a retired stockbroker, the house-agent said.