Someone peeped through a blind, the door opened as far as a rattling chain would permit.
“Good evening,” said Brett.
“What do you want?” demanded a suspicious woman.
“Mr. Smith—Mr. Horatio Smith.”
“He doesn’t live here.”
“Dear me! Isn’t this 76 Middle Street?”
“Yes; all the same, there’s no Smiths here.”
The door slammed; but the barrister had attained his object. The other man had entered No. 37.