“Won’t you sit down? Excuse me for one moment, will you?” he said, without lifting his eyes from the paper he was scrutinising, as he leaned over the shorthand writer, his finger following a phrase. “That’s it. ‘ Mr. Vintner, the butler and myself always look round the house the last thing at night to make sure that the fastenings are safe and the burglar alarms in order. We always do it even if we know that Mr. Gertstein or his secretary has⁠—’ ”

She studied Labar with some interest. He bore no obvious trace of his profession⁠—no good detective ever does. He was a clean-cut specimen of the ordinary business man. He was youngish-looking, perhaps thirty or thereabouts, and his voice was that of a cultivated man. In the neighbourhood of six feet tall, his well-tailored suit could not conceal the broad shoulders and lean flanks of a man used to athletic exercises. There was a suspicion of aggression in his chin she thought. He looked efficient and he had poise.