“Particularly.”
She fidgeted a little.
“He told me,” he pursued, “that he might look in at his rooms last night. He left no message for me?”
“What [name], sir?”
“Mr Butler.”
“No, sir.”
“Then, my dear,” said Mr Bunker, with his most insinuating smile, “he was here for a little, you can’t deny?”
At the maid’s embarrassed glance down his long coat, he suddenly realised that there was perhaps a distinction between lay and clerical smiles.
“He might have just looked in, sir,” she admitted.
“But he didn’t want it known?”