"She could never leave her hotel," he replied, and that, in his mind, was the end of her.
IX
Two hours later I was in bed and asleep, and three hours later I cautiously opened my bedroom door to see Terry standing, fully dressed and very pale, in the corridor. We had been given adjacent rooms on the top floor—furthest from the cockroaches—and I had been very tired and sleepy. Heaven knows how long he had been knocking before I was awakened. "You've not been to bed yet?" I exclaimed dazedly; and he said: "It's not late—not much after one o'clock. Can I come in?"
Of course he could. I switched on the central light and closed the door after him. "I hope you haven't been knocking for hours," I told him. "But, as a matter of fact, I'm about as sleepy as I've ever been in my life...." That was a hint, and when he didn't take it, I went on: "Is everything all right?"
Then immediately I could see that everything wasn't all right. He sat down on a chair and clenched his hands between his knees. "I—I think perhaps—I oughtn't to have wakened you," he said at length.
"Oh, not at all—if you want my help in any way. You don't look very well, and I'm glad you came.... What's the matter?"
He didn't, or else he couldn't, tell me for a few moments. I lit a cigarette and made myself as comfortable as I could; I guessed that whatever he had to say would take some time. And then at last he began, heavily: "I've been down to the bureau."
"The hotel bureau?"
"Yes."
"Well?"