He ran out of the house, and calling up his taxi, was driven to Park Walk. There he soon spotted the man who was shadowing Mrs. Berlyn.
“Anything to report, Jefferies?” he demanded, quickly. “She’s still there, all right?”
“Still there, Mr. French. No one left the house since I came on duty.”
“Good. Then come with me.”
He rang at the door and, when the servant opened, asked for Mrs. Berlyn.
“She’s not up, sir,” the girl returned. “Last night she said she had a chill and did not want to be called or disturbed this morning. She said she probably wouldn’t want anything until lunch and not to bring up breakfast, as she was going to take a sleeping-draught and might not be awake.”
Though still inadequate to relieve his feelings, French swore his lurid oath.
“Go and wake her now,” he ordered the scandalised girl. “Here, I’ll go to the door with you.”
The girl seemed about to object, but French’s tone over-awed her. Hesitatingly she led the way.
“Knock,” said French. “Or wait. I will.” He gave a rousing knock at the door.