“If it is not too much trouble.” He was suspicious of the change in her attitude after learning his name.
She led the way upstairs and opened a door on the first landing.
“This is his sitting-room,” she said.
It was a large, comfortably furnished room, with a window looking onto the front garden. Crewe’s keen eye took in the details of the interior. The manner in which the room had been left suggested that its owner intended to return. Several pipes and a box of cigars, nearly full, stood on a table near the fireplace. Beside them was a folded newspaper, and on top of it was a novel.
An arm-chair was drawn up close to the fire-place, and beside it was a pair of slippers. Near the window was another table, on which there was an open writing-desk containing notepaper, envelopes and pens. The room looked neat and tidy, as if for an occupant of regular habits who liked his comfort to be studied. It was this impression which gave Crewe the clue to the landlady’s invitation to inspect the apartments. If Brett had anything to hide he could depend on the loyal support of Mrs. Penfield.
Among the photographs which decorated the room, the one that claimed Crewe’s attention was that which occupied the place of honour in the centre of the mantelpiece. It was enclosed in a silver frame. He took it in his hands to examine it closely, and glancing at Mrs. Penfield as he lifted it down he saw her give a slight disdainful toss of her head.
“A very pretty girl,” said Crewe, looking critically at the photograph.
“It is very flattering,” was the cold comment of his companion.
“But even allowing for that”—he left the sentence unfinished, as if unable to find words for his admiration of the subject of the photograph. His real interest in the photograph was that he had recently seen the sitter, and was astonished to find that she had some connection with Brett. “Do you know her?”
“I have seen her. She came here several times to see Mr. Brett. She came to-day about an hour ago.”