"Julius P. Hersheimmer!"

"We never told Mr. Carter about hearing from him."

"Well, there wasn't much to tell--not till we've seen him. Come
on, we'd better take a taxi."

"Now who's being extravagant?"

"All expenses paid, remember. Hop in."

"At any rate, we shall make a better effect arriving this way,"
said Tuppence, leaning back luxuriously. "I'm sure blackmailers
never arrive in buses!"

"We've ceased being blackmailers," Tommy pointed out.

"I'm not sure I have," said Tuppence darkly.

On inquiring for Mr. Hersheimmer, they were at once taken up to
his suite. An impatient voice cried "Come in" in answer to the
page-boy's knock, and the lad stood aside to let them pass in.

Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer was a great deal younger than either
Tommy or Tuppence had pictured him. The girl put him down as
thirty-five. He was of middle height, and squarely built to match
his jaw. His face was pugnacious but pleasant. No one could have
mistaken him for anything but an American, though he spoke with
very little accent.