Henry took the cloth from her.
“There’s a fire in the dining-room,” he said.
Roberta remembered her errands. “Have you seen Tinkerton and Giggle?”
“I don’t think they’re in the flat. Why?”
“They must be in the car. Charlot wants them told.”
“I’ll go,” Henry offered.
“No, please. If you’ll do — that.”
“All right,” said Henry and went away with the cloth.
Roberta was running downstairs… Four landings with blank walls and steel numbers… Long windows… Heavy carpet under her feet. The lift passed her, bearing an immobile man in an overcoat and a bowler hat, carrying a bag in his hand… Now the entrance hall with the porter who looked bewildered and perturbed and stared at Roberta. She remembered his name.
“Oh, Stamford, have you seen Lord Wutherwood’s chauffeur?”