"No, thank you; I won't disturb him at this hour." He pushed a pound note across the desk and turned slowly away. Half unconsciously he walked over to the lift and stepped inside.
"Doris Lethbridge—John Fordingham." Oh! dear God!
"What number, sir?" The lift-man was watching him a trifle curiously.
"Six hundred and ninety-four," said Hugh, mechanically. "No—seven hundred and ten, I mean."
"They are both on the same floor," said the man, concealing a smile. At the Magnificent slight confusion as to numbers of rooms was not unknown.
"Doris Lethbridge—John Fordingham!"
The lift shot up, and still the names danced madly before his eyes. Every pulse in his body was hammering; wave upon wave of emotion rose in his throat, choking him; his mouth seemed parched and dry.
"Doris Lethbridge—John Fordingham!"
"To the right, sir, for both rooms."
The door shut behind him and the lift sank rapidly out of sight. For a moment he stood in the long, deserted passage; then slowly, almost falteringly, he walked along it.