Miss Van Tuyn was vaguely glad to hear him say that to the chauffeur.
She got out and looked upwards. She saw a big block of flats towering up in front of her.
“On the other side they face the river Thames,” said Arabian. “All my windows except three look out that way. We will go up in the elevator.”
They passed through a handsome hall and stepped into the lift, which carried them up to the fourth floor of the building. Arabian put a latch-key into a polished mahogany door with a big letter M in brass nailed to it.
“Please!” he said, standing back for Miss Van Tuyn to pass in.
But she hesitated. She saw a pretty little hall, a bunch of roses in a vase on a Chippendale table, two or three closed doors. She was aware of a very faint and pleasant odour, like the odour of flowers not roses, and guessed that someone had been burning some perfume in the flat. There was certainly nothing repellent in this temporary home of Arabian. Yet she felt with a painful strength that she had better go away without entering it. While she paused, but before she had said anything, she heard a quiet step, and a thin man of about thirty with a very dark narrow face and light, grey eyes appeared.
“Please bring tea for two at once,” said Arabian in Spanish.
“Yes, sir, in a moment,” said the man, also in Spanish.
Miss Van Tuyn stepped in, and the door was gently shut behind her by Arabian’s manservant.
Arabian opened the second door on the left of the hall.