The hall porter regained his power of speech. "It can't possibly be managed, Kenly," he spluttered. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you in reason, but——"
Kenly cut him short. "It's got to be done," he remarked decisively. "I've come to you, because I know I can trust you to say nothing, and the fewer people who know what I am doing the better I shall be pleased."
"It can't be done," remarked the hall porter. "It would be as much as my place is worth."
"Pooh!" said the detective. "It is easy enough to make some excuse. You can say I'm the electric light man or that I have orders to clean out the cisterns."
"There ain't no cisterns that want cleaning," objected the hall porter. "Now if you had come and asked me two days ago there wouldn't have been any difficulty, but to-day——"
"Why is it impossible to-day?" demanded the detective.
"Well, Mr. Hora and Miss Myra have been away at Scarborough for the past fortnight, and I could have let you in to their place, but I'm expecting them to return at any minute now."
"Then we mustn't lose any time talking about it," said Kenly briskly. "I suppose you have some means of communicating with the flat from here."
"There's the telephone," said the porter.
"Take me straight up," said Kenly, "and if Mr. Hora should arrive before I come down again just give two rings at the telephone bell. I shall have plenty of time to let myself out before Mr. Hora returns." He caught hold of the porter's arm and hurried him away in the direction of the lift. Protesting all the while that it would be impossible and entreating Kenly to postpone his visit to a more convenient occasion, he yet allowed himself to be carried away by the detective's impetuosity. He protested while the lift went steadily upward, he protested even while he inserted a key in the lock, and Kenly left him outside the door still protesting.