“Jerome!” he cried, tapping at the door. “Can I come in? It’s Jack!”
But there was no reply. Sainsbury strained his ears at the door, but could detect no movement within.
A taxicab rushed past; then a moment later, when the sound had died away, he cried again—
“Jerome! I’m here! I want to see you, old fellow. Open the door.”
Still there was no answer.
Thomasson, standing at the foot of the wide, old-fashioned stairs, heard his master’s visitor, and asked—
“Is the door locked, sir?”
“Yes,” Jack shouted back.
“That’s very strange?” remarked the man. “I’ve let nobody in since Mr Trustram, of the Admiralty, went away—about a quarter of an hour ago.”
“Has he been here?” Jack asked. “I met him here the other day. He struck me as being a rather surly man, and I didn’t like him at all,” declared Sainsbury, with his usual frankness.