She went wearily up the stairs to the room of the master thief.

There she gave the accustomed rap with the proper intervals.

Instantly the cold, soft voice, which she knew and hated so, called to her to enter.
She found him in the act of putting aside his book.

He was seated in a deep easy-chair; a dressing gown of silk and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles gave him a look of owlish wisdom, with a touch of the owl's futility of expression, likewise.

He rose, as usual, with all his courtesy.