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Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing heart,

and once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight, he

began softly and cautiously ascending the stairs, listening every

minute. But the stairs, too, were quite deserted; all the doors

were shut; he met no one. One flat indeed on the first floor was

wide open and painters were at work in it, but they did not

glance at him. He stood still, thought a minute and went on. "Of

course it would be better if they had not been here, but... it's

two storeys above them."