“Sorry, I didn't mean it quite like that. The other —” he paused - “the other, as far as I know, has absolutely nothing to support it. I'll see if I can find something.”
“It doesn't sound very promising,” said Hannasyde, rather amused. “But by all means go ahead with it.”
In another few minutes they had arrived at the studio. Giles ran his car a little way down the mews, and followed Hannasyde up the stairs to the door of the flat.
It was opened to them by Murgatroyd, who exclaimed: “What, again?” in tones of deep disgust. “Well, one thing's certain - you can't go worrying my young lady and gentleman now. They're having breakfast. Good-morning, Mr Giles.”
“Having breakfast, Murgatroyd?” Giles said. “Do you know it's nearly eleven?”
“Yes, and it was nearly five before Mr Kenneth and Miss Leslie came back from that dance,” said Murgatroyd grimly.
“Well, I'm sorry, but Superintendent Hannasyde is a busy man. Mr Kenneth will have to be disturbed.”
“If you say so, sir,” conceded Murgatroyd, disapprovingly, and stood back. “Not but what I doubt whether Miss Leslie's dressed to receive company, but I'll see.”
“Miss Leslie? Is she here?”
“Oh yes, she's here, and has been all night - what there was left of it by the time Mr Kenneth brought her back,” replied Murgatroyd. “What must she do but leave her latch-key behind, so sooner than knock up her landlady she wakes Miss Tony, and gets into her bed.” She opened the door into the studio as she spoke, and looked in. “Here's Mr Giles with the Superintendent, Miss Tony. Will I let them in, or not?”