“Judith Lome.”

“Did Mr Rollison say anything else, Miss Lome?”

“No! It doesn’t—Oh, yes, he did! He won’t be in to tea.”

It sounded ridiculous but a change in Jolly’s tone when he answered told her that it wasn’t.

“Very good, Miss Lome. I will be there as soon as I can. Good-bye; Mr Higgin—” she heard him call the other man before ringing off.

She stood with the receiver in her hand and Mrs Tirrell prancing about in front of her, desperately eager to know what all this was about.

“You look so pale, dear. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. Yes. Everything’s—wonderful!” Judith squeezed her hand as she went towards the door and suddenly realised that she hadn’t any money with her; it was a rule of the house that all calls were paid for in advance. “I’ll let you have the tuppence, Mrs Tirrell, thank you—thank you!”

She fled and raced up the stairs. She knew that Mrs Tirrell was standing and watching but she didn’t care—nothing mattered but getting to Jim. How long would it take Jolly to reach here? Twenty minutes at the most; as the flat had a Mayfair number, it must be in Mayfair. Wasn’t she bright? She giggled from reaction, reached the second landing and caught sight of Mrs Tirrell disappearing into her flat. It wouldn’t be long before the woman came up to find out what was happening. Her hooked nose was the most curious and intruding one in Knoll Street. Never mind Mrs Tirrell; Rollison could deal with her—Rollison could deal with anyone.”

She slowed down as she went towards the top landing. She mustn’t lose her head. She had kept her composure well with Rollison: it mattered whether she impressed him favourably or not; he held her future in his hands. She mustn’t forget that. He had talked of danger and he wouldn’t talk lightly; so there was danger. The way Waleski had said Til kill you for that,” in the cold, dull voice, came back to her and took the edge off her excitement.