"The fellows all know I'm reading for this exam. Why in the world do
they come to bother me at such an unearthly hour?"
The inhabitants of the building, with himself, were medical students,
general students, poor Writers to the Signet, and some others whose
vocations were perhaps not so obvious. The stone staircase, dimly
lighted at each floor by a gas-jet that would not turn above a certain
height, wound down to the level of the street with no pretence at carpet
or railing. At some levels it was cleaner than at others. It depended on
the landlady of the particular level.
The acoustic properties of a spiral staircase seem to be peculiar.
Marriott, standing by the open door, book in hand, thought every moment
the owner of the footsteps would come into view. The sound of the boots
was so close and so loud that they seemed to travel disproportionately
in advance of their cause. Wondering who it could be, he stood ready
with all manner of sharp greetings for the man who dared thus to disturb
his work. But the man did not appear. The steps sounded almost under
his nose, yet no one was visible.
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