stuff about my being engaged with Scotland Yard on the phone. Get into your office and start typing, Tuppence. It makes the office sound busy and active. No, on second thoughts, you shall be taking notes in shorthand from my dictation. Let’s have a look before we get Albert to send the victim in.”
They approached the peephole which had been artistically contrived so as to command a view of the outer office.
The client was a girl of about Tuppence’s age, tall and dark with a rather haggard face and scornful eyes.
“Clothes cheap and striking,” remarked Tuppence. “Have her in, Tommy.”
In another minute the girl was shaking hands with the celebrated Mr. Blunt, whilst Tuppence sat by with eyes demurely downcast,