seen nothing suspicious.
Suddenly glancing at her, he was seized with compunction.
“I say, you look awfully done up. The shock of that man. Come into this place and have a good cup of strong coffee. I suppose you wouldn’t hear of a nip of brandy.”
The girl shook her head, with a faint smile.
“Coffee be it then,” said Tommy. “I think we can safely risk its being poisoned.”
They lingered some time over their coffee, and finally set off at a brisker pace.
“We’ve thrown them off, I think,” said Tommy, looking over his shoulder.
Cyclamen Ltd. was a small establishment in Bond Street, with pale pink taffeta curtains, and one or two jars of face cream and a cake of soap decorating the window.