"Come on up with me," he said.
"L-l-l-like a shot," said the Saint timidly, and followed in the burly wake of the law.
They listened outside the door of the flat for some time, and, not unnaturally, heard nothing.
"Perhaps she's dead by now," Simon ventured morbidly.
The law applied a stubby forefinger to the bell. A minute passed.
The law repeated the summons — without result.
The Saint cleared his throat.
"Couldn't we break in?" he said.
The law shook its head.
"Better wait till the inspector gets back. He won't be long."