'"
Poor Coombes smiled pathetically.
"Look here," he said, bravely meeting the ferocious glare of his
superior, "as man to man. What could I do?"
"You could stop smiling!" snapped Kerry. "Hell!" He paced several
times up and down the room. "Go ahead, Coombes."
"Well, there's nothing much to report. I stayed in the kitchen, and
the man from the Home office was in here alone for about half an
hour."
"Alone?"
"Inspector Whiteleaf stayed in the dining-room."
"Had he been 'instructed' too?"
"I expect so. I think he just came along as a sort of guide."
"Ah!" muttered Kerry savagely, "a sort of guide! Any idea what the
bogey man did in here?"
"He opened the window. I heard him."
"That's funny. It's exactly what I'm going to do! This smart from
Whitehall hasn't got a corner in notions yet, Coombes."
The room was a large and lofty one, and had been used by a former
tenant as a studio. The toplights had been roofed over by Sir Lucien,
however, but the raised platform, approached by two steps, which had
probably been used as a model's throne, was a permanent fixture of the
apartment. It was backed now by bookcases, except where a blue plush
curtain was draped before a French window.
Kerry drew the curtain back, and threw open the folding leaves of the
window.
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