After a little delay, Broad’s voice answered him.
“That you, Mr. Broad? What are you doing now?” asked Elk, in that caressing tone he adopted for telephone conversation.
“Is that Elk? I’m just going out.”
“Thought I saw you in Whitehall about five minutes ago,” said Elk.
“Then you must have seen my double,” replied the other, “for I haven’t been out of my bath ten minutes. Do you want me?”
“No, no,” cooed Elk. “Just wanted to know you were all right.”
“Why, is anything wrong?” came the sharp question.
“Everything’s fine,” said Elk untruthfully. “Perhaps you’ll call round and see me at my office one of these days—good-bye!”
He pushed the telephone back, and raising his eyes to the ceiling, made a quick calculation.
“From Whitehall to Cavendish Square takes four minutes in a good car,” he said. “So his being in the flat means nothing.”