Bruce handed him half a sovereign.
"Thank ye, sir," he said, "thank ye." Then he paused. "I knows wot them suffrinjettes wants," he added, "and if I 'ad my way I'd give it 'em."
With this dark saying he slipped in his clutch and left us.
Side by side we walked up the gravelled drive and stepped in through the main entrance.
Cynthia's flat is on the ground floor on the right-hand side, the one with the green door and the copper knocker. Bruce laid his hand on the latter, and then hesitated.
"Go on," I said bitterly. "Think what we've been through."
His face hardened and he gave two sharp rattats.
A minute's pause, a sound of footsteps, and then the door swung open. A pretty, dark girl in the dress of a parlourmaid was standing before us.
Bruce cleared his throat.
"Is Miss West at home?" he asked huskily.