The butler's body filled the doorway. Nor did he offer to budge.
"I'm afraid, sir, Mr. Shaynon is 'ardly likely to see any one at this hour."
"He'll see me," replied P. Sybarite grimly. "He hasn't gone to bed, I gather?"
"Not yet, sir; but 'e's goin' immediate'."
"Very well. You may as well let me in."
Suspicious but impressed, the servant shuffled aside, and P. Sybarite brushed past him into the hallway.
"Where is he?"
"If you'll give me your nime, sir, I'll tell him you're 'ere."
P. Sybarite hesitated. He was in anything but the mood for joking, yet a certain dour humour in the jest caught his fancy and persuaded him against his better judgment.
"Nemesis," he said briefly.