A stuffed marmot, rather moth-eaten, occupied the blind end of the passage, standing on a plaster rock; Julia laughed softly to herself—how Swiss!—and then gave a tiny sigh, recalling that happy morning on the Schynige Platte, only three days ago, and how Antrobus showed her and Mrs. Hathaway live marmots on the way up. Turning from the animal, she examined the corridor. It had only four doors, June’s and three others. Were Wright’s and Borovali’s rooms up here too, she wondered? Softly, carefully, she tried the second door on June’s side; it was locked. Feeling that she might be taking a foolish risk, but unable to resist the temptation, she went silently back towards the marmot, with its silly seal’s face, and tried the last door on the left, opposite June’s. To her surprise it opened, and she stepped into a small room exactly like the one she had just left, even to the pegs on the wall in one corner; on these, carefully suspended from a coat-and-trouser hanger, hung a wind-cheater and a pair of pale corduroy slacks.
