“My dear Crofts, you’re too thoughtful.”
“Very seldom, I assure you,” he smiled.
“Certainly, I’d like to break the edge of appetite, anyhow.”
“Then we’ll go up to my room.”
Blenkinson, with impeccable whiskers, looked as if he might be the Master of University College. With the tray, he followed us up the circular stairs, whose well reached into the dim heights of the second storey. A room on the right of the first landing was Pendleton’s.
“Hullo, it’s dark! I expected Ludlow had come up. He complained of feeling seedy.”
The long corridor of this floor, which I later found to lead to the door of the landing of the outside stairs at the north end of the building, was invisible until Pendleton touched a button on the wall.
“Ludlow? Is he the tufted individual, hawk-like?”
“Why, yes. Have you seen him?”
“We have conversed slightly. He’s downstairs.”