"Sir?"
"Somebody ordered it, I suppose?"
"Very likely the gentleman next door, sir——"
"All right," said Guild quietly. "Try the door while I stand here and look on."
"Very good, sir."
With equanimity unimpaired the waiter stepped to the next door on the corridor, placed his tray flat on the palm of his left hand, and, with his right hand, began to turn the knob, using, apparently, every precaution to make no noise.
But he was not successful; the glassware on his tray suddenly gave out a clear, tinkling clash, and, at the same moment the bedroom door opened from within and a man in evening dress appeared dimly framed by the doorway.
"Sorry, sir," said the waiter, "your whiskey, sir——"
He stepped inside the room and the door closed behind him. Guild quietly waited. Presently the waiter reappeared without the tray.
"Come here," motioned Guild.