The Sentinel Read Free Page A

the soiled wood paneling that completely covered the walls.
    She glanced at herself in a hanging mirror, then leaned against a bicycle rack in the center of the hallway.
    "You can keep a bicycle here," said Miss Logan, standing at the base of the wooden staircase, "although the basement is probably more convenient."
    Allison nodded thoughtfully. Eyes darting. Feeling a rapport with the building's personality.
    With the renting agent leading the way, they began to climb the stairs. Halfway up, Allison stopped, grabbed the banister and shook it firmly. It was sturdy. Reassured, she continued to the first landing, forty-two steps from where she had started.
    The second floor was paneled like the first with long strips of worn, soiled pine. However, at the junction of the landing and the second-floor hallway there was a segment of wall that had been completely refurbished. It began about four feet off the ground, ran to the ceiling and was approximately eight feet wide, reaching from the stairwell wall to the door of the B apartment that stood at the top of the landing in the beginning of the hallway. Allison inspected the fine new pine closely, touched it and thought of a pearl in an oyster, an isolated addition to an otherwise homogeneous surrounding. She shrugged, dismissed its presence and stepped away.
    The lighting was extremely poor; the texture of the air was thick, almost filamentous, making it even harder to see. But she continued to follow Miss Logan, relying more on the agent's exemplary progress and her own non-visual senses than on her eyes. They wandered down the hall past the A apartment and climbed the second staircase to the third landing, which was easily as dark and forbidding as the second. The small yellow wall lights, one at each end of the hall, provided the only illumination. Miss Logan removed the chain of keys from her pocket and inserted one into the door marked 3 A. It opened and they entered.
    The apartment, as advertised, was a floor through. The living room, which lay directly beyond the entrance, was large, rectangular and generally well preserved. The furniture was eye-catching, the style Victorian, the condition old. A treasure chest of antiques, from the smallest ashtray to the two large grandfather clocks that stood on either side of the mantel. She particularly liked the sofa that set the general tone and mood and stood in the middle of the room between two old granny lamps and before a low-standing bookshelf. Across from the sofa was a fireplace bordered in marble. It was clean; obviously it had not been used in some time. Scattered around the room were delicate chairs with arching backs and exquisite hand-sewn fabrics. She noted their position and thought to herself that the chair in front of the middle window belonged by the chair near the side wall. Perhaps she could buy a coffee table to place between the two, thereby establishing a separate personality to that little corner of the living room. The idea pleased her; she smiled to herself as she crossed the Oriental rug, glancing at the handsomely papered walls and hand-wrought mirrors.
    Miss Logan followed and stuttered. "The old furniture fits in perfectly, I'm sure you'll agree."
    She did. But no response. Instead, a continued walk around the room. Attention to details. The many small objects. "I assume all of this will come with the apartment?"
    "I think so," said the agent, "but I can check before either of us makes a final decision."
    "I'd appreciate it," Allison acknowledged, opening the window draperies, admitting the soft muted light of late afternoon. Looking out the third-floor window, she nodded her circumspect approval, closed the draperies, then turned back to the impatient renting agent and asked whether she could see the bedroom.
    "Of course," answered Miss Logan.
    She led Allison down a narrow hallway approximately fifteen feet long, which was bisected lengthwise by two opposing doorways-one leading to the small