His head, I remember, lay under the escritoire from which he had taken my passport.
I picked up the key and unlocked the door.

In one of the gilded mirrors I smoothed my hair and tidied up my clothes.

My anger had completely gone and I had no particular ill-will left against Stumm.
He was a man of remarkable qualities, which would have brought him to the highest distinction in the Stone Age.

But for all that he and his kind were back numbers.
I stepped out of the room, locked the door behind me, and started out on the second stage of my travels..