"You haven't seen him again?" asked Hetherwick.
"No; he's not been here," replied the man.
"Well, I wanted to ask you a question," continued Hetherwick. "Perhaps two or three. To begin with, have you lived here long?"
"Been here since before these flats were built—and that's a good many years ago; I can't say exactly how many," said the other, glancing at the big block opposite his window. "Twenty-two or three, anyway."
"Then I dare say you know most of the people hereabouts?" suggested Hetherwick. "By sight, at any rate."
The lodging-house keeper smiled and shook his head.
"That would be a tall order, mister!" he answered. "There's a few thousand of people packed into this bit of London. Of course, I do know a good many, close at hand. But if you're a Londoner you'll know that Londoners keep themselves to themselves. May seem queer, but it's a fact that I don't know the names of my next-door neighbours on either side—though to be sure they've only been here a few years in either case."
"What I was suggesting," said Hetherwick, "was that you probably knew by sight many of the people who live in the flats opposite your house."
"Oh, I know some of 'em by sight," assented the man. "They're a mixed lot over in those flats! A few old gentlemen—retired—two or three old ladies—and a fair lot of actresses—very popular with the stage is those flats. But, of course, it is only by sight—I don't know any of 'em by name. Just see them going in and coming out, you know."
"Do you happen to know by sight a tall, handsome woman who has a flat there?" asked Hetherwick. "A woman who's likely to be very well dressed?"