Ностромо

           Slowly,stepbystep,hefoundhimselfinthegreathall,sombreandfullofacridsmoke.

           Afirebuiltagainstthestaircasehadburntdownimpotentlytoalowheapofembers.Thehardwoodhadfailedtocatch;onlyafewstepsatthebottomsmouldered,withacreepingglowofsparksdefiningtheircharrededges.Atthetophesawastreakoflightfromanopendoor.Itfelluponthevastlanding,allfoggywithaslowdriftofsmoke.Thatwastheroom.Heclimbedthestairs,thencheckedhimself,becausehehadseenwithintheshadowofamancastupononeofthewalls.Itwasashapeless,highshoulderedshadowofsomebodystandingstill,withloweredhead,outofhislineofsight.TheCapataz,rememberingthathewastotallyunarmed,steppedaside,and,effacinghimselfuprightinadarkcorner,waitedwithhiseyesfixedonthedoor.

           Thewholeenormousruinedbarrackofaplace,unfinished,withoutceilingsunderitsloftyroof,waspervadedbythesmokeswayingtoandfrointhefaintcrossdraughtsplayingintheobscurityofmanyloftyroomsandbarnlikepassages.Onceoneoftheswingingshutterscameagainstthewallwithasinglesharpcrack,asifpushedbyanimpatienthand.Apieceofpaperscurriedoutfromsomewhere,rustlingalongthelanding.Theman,whoeverhewas,didnotdarkenthelighteddoorway.TwicetheCapataz,advancingacoupleofstepsoutofhiscorner,cranedhisneckinthehopeofcatchingsightofwhathecouldbeat,soquietly,inthere.