Tuppence’s next port of call was the flat in Clarges Street. Here she was greeted by Miss Marjory Leicester, the friend with whom Miss Drake shared a flat.
“Do tell me what all this is about?” asked Miss Leicester plaintively. “Una has some deep game on and I don’t know what it is. Of course she slept here on Tuesday night.”
“Did you see her when she came in?”
“No, I had gone to bed. She has got her own latch key, of course. She came in about one o’clock, I believe.”
“When did you see her?”
“Oh, the next morning about nine—or perhaps it was nearer ten.”
As Tuppence left the flat she almost collided with a tall, gaunt female who was entering.
“Excuse me, Miss, I’m sure,” said the gaunt female.
“Do you work here?” asked Tuppence.
“Yes, Miss, I come daily.”
“What time do you get here in the morning?”
“Nine o’clock is my time, Miss.”
Tuppence slipped a hurried half crown into the gaunt female’s hand.
“Was Miss Drake here last Tuesday morning when you arrived?”
“Why yes, Miss, indeed she was. Fast asleep in her bed and hardly woke up when I brought her in her tea.”