In her mind. Had she bolted the door of the flat? She went along the passage in her stockinged feet, shot the bolts smoothly and was aware of voices outside. They came to her clearly through the ventilator above the fan-light.
She heard the doctor say something and then a voice which she had not heard before.
"Don't worry I've a wonderful memory, by Jove! . . ."
The murmur of the doctor did not reach her, but
"Yes, yes . . . Scobbs' Hotel, Red Horse Valley . . . know the place well . . . good night, dear old thing. . . ."
A door banged, an uncertain footstep died away in the well of the stairs below, and she was left to recover from her amazement.
CHAPTER VII
PLAIN WORDS FROM MR. BEALE
OLIVA CRESSWELL did not feel at all sleepy, so she discovered, by the time she was ready for bed. To retire in that condition of wakefulness meant another sleepless night, and she slipped a kimono over her, found a book and settled into the big wicker-chair under the light for the half-hour's reading which would reduce her to the necessary state of drowsiness. The book at any other time would have held her attention, but now she found her thoughts wandering. On the other side of the wall (she regarded it with a new interest) was the young man who had so strangely intruded himself into her life. Or was he out? What would a man like that do with his evenings? He was not the sort of person who could find any pleasure in making a round of music-halls or sitting up half the night in a card-room.
She heard a dull knock, and it came from the wall.
