“No one has passed in or out since you came in, Mr. Harleston.”
“Then I must be mistaken.”
“You certainly are. It’s so lonely down here, Mr. Harleston, you can pick up chunks of it and carry off.”
“Been asleep?”
“I don’t think!” she laughed. “I’m not minded to lose my job. Suppose some peevish woman wanted a doctor and she couldn’t raise me; do you think I’d last longer than the morning and the manager’s arrival? Nay! Nay!”
“It’s an unsympathetic world, isn’t it, Miss Williams?”
“Only when you’re down—otherwise it’s not half bad. Say, maybe here’s one of your men now; he’s walking down. Shall I stop him?”
“No, no, let him go. When he’s gone, tell me if he’s slender, or stout, or has a moustache and imperial.”
“Sure, I will.”
Through the telephone Harleston could hear someone descend the stairs, cross the lobby, and the revolving doors swing around.