“You haven’t an appointment, I suppose?”
The visitor became more and more apologetic.
“Afraid I haven’t.”
“It’s always wise, sir, to ring up on the phone first. Mr. Blunt is so terribly busy. He’s engaged on the telephone at the moment. Called into consultation by Scotland Yard.”
The young man seemed suitably impressed.
Albert lowered his voice, and imparted information in a friendly fashion.
“Important theft of documents from a Government Office. They want Mr. Blunt to take up the case.”
“Oh! really. I say. He must be no end of a fellow.”
“The Boss, sir,” said Albert, “is It.”
The young man sat down on a hard chair, completely unconscious of the fact that he was being subjected to keen scrutiny by two pairs of eyes looking through cunningly contrived peepholes—those of Tuppence, in the intervals of frenzied typing, and those of Tommy awaiting the suitable moment.
Presently a bell rang with violence on Albert’s desk.
“The Boss is free now. I will find out whether he can see you,” said Albert, and disappeared through the door marked “Private.”
He reappeared immediately.
“Will you come this way, sir?”