"New, isn't she?"

"She came in to-day. The other was a fiend. This girl seems all
right. She waits well."

Tuppence lingered a moment longer by the door which she had
carefully neglected to close, and heard him say:

"Quite safe, I suppose?"

"Really, Boris, you are absurdly suspicious. I believe she's the
cousin of the hall porter, or something of the kind. And nobody
even dreams that I have any connection with our--mutual friend,
Mr. Brown."

"For heaven's sake, be careful, Rita. That door isn't shut."

"Well, shut it then," laughed the woman.

Tuppence removed herself speedily.

She dared not absent herself longer from the back premises, but
she cleared away and washed up with a breathless speed acquired
in hospital. Then she slipped quietly back to the boudoir door.
The cook, more leisurely, was still busy in the kitchen and, if
she missed the other, would only suppose her to be turning down
the beds.

Alas! The conversation inside was being carried on in too low a