Meggie grasped Abbershaw’s arm.
‘Albert Campion!’ she said.
Abbershaw nodded: the voice was unmistakable, and he moved over to the inner door and tapped upon it gently.
‘Campion,’ he called softly, ‘we’re in here.’
‘That’s all right, old bird, I’m coming. You couldn’t call the old lady off, could you?’
Campion’s voice sounded a little strained.
‘She seems to think I’m not the sort of person you ought to know. Can’t you tell her that many a true heart beats beneath a ready-made suit?’
‘Mrs Meade.’
Abbershaw raised his voice a little.
‘Mr Campion is a friend of ours. Could you let him in to us?’