Then he waited, as a man both hurried and certain, turning a little away from the door, at an angle which still more effectually concealed him, while he tapped impatiently with one foot.
Presently the door opened, after he made certain that someone had looked out at him from the side window.

How much had they seen?
How much had they guessed as to the identity of this night visitor?
The softness of the opening of the door and the whisper of the wind, as it rushed into the hall beyond, were like a hiss of threatening secrecy.

And then, from the shadow of that meager opening a voice was saying: "Who's there ?" The very caution, however, reassured Ronicky Doone.

Had they suspected that it was he they would either have kept the door definitely closed, or else they would have flung it open and boldly invited him in.
"I want to see Harry Morgan--quick!" he said and stepped close to the door.
At his bold approach the door was closed like the winking of an eye, until it was barely an inch ajar.
"Keep back!" came the warning through this small opening.

"Keep clear, bo!" "Damnation!" exclaimed Ronicky.