"Most of the stories I have to listen to do," observed Hemingway. "And they're not always lies either!"
"Well, Mrs. Haddington gave me a cheque this morning," she said. "She does it every week. I have to cash it, and pay all the household bills. I put it in a drawer of this desk, and forgot it. So I came back, because I'm supposed to pay the bills tomorrow morning, before I report for duty here."
"Can I see the cheque?"
She hunted in her bag. "Yes, it's here. I haven't got the books or the bills here: I left them at my digs. If you like to send someone to fetch them, I can tell you just where they are, though! The cheque's made out for the exact amount."
Hemingway took it from her, glanced at it, and handed it back. "A Bearer cheque: where do you cash it?"
"At Mrs. Haddington's Branch, in Piccadilly."
"Well, that seems all right. You've got a latch-key for this front door?"
"Yes."
"When did you let yourself into the house again?"
"I - I don't know! I never looked at the time!"