down the corridor. Halfway along it, a man dressed as a waiter came to meet them.
“It’s all right, Chief. They’re in No. 318.”
Carter breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s all right. No other exit?”
“It’s a suite, but there are only these two doors into the corridor, and to get out from any of these rooms, they’d have to pass us to get to the staircase or the lifts.”
“That’s all right, then. Just telephone down and find out who is supposed to be occupying this suite.”
The waiter returned in a minute or two.
“ Mrs. Cortlandt Van Snyder of Detroit.”
Mr. Carter became very thoughtful.
“I wonder now. Is this Mrs. Van Snyder an accomplice, or is