He shook off the impression with an effort.
It was the girl who preceded him upstairs carrying an iron lamp from the naked flame of which ascended a thin thread of smoke.

Her soiled white stockings were full of holes.
With the same quiet resolution with which he had locked the door below, Byrne threw open one after another the doors in the corridor.

All the rooms were empty except for some nondescript lumber in one or two.

And the girl seeing what he would be at stopped every time, raising the smoky light in each doorway patiently.

Meantime she observed him with sustained attention.