'Miss Payne left at 2.15, whipped round to the flats entrance, took the
lift to the top-floor, went into Mr. Francis Tudor's flat.'

'What's that you say? Whose flat?' cried Hugo.

'Mr. Francis Tudor's, sir.'

Mr. Tudor was famous as the tenant of the suite rented at two thousand a
year; he had a reputation for being artistic, sybaritic, and something
in the inner ring of the City.

'Ah!' said Hugo. 'Perhaps she is a friend of one of Mr. Tudor's--'

'Servants,' he was about to say, but the idea of Miss Payne being on
terms of equality with a menial was not pleasant to him, and he stopped.

'No, sir,' said Albert Shawn, unmoved. 'She is not, because Mr. Tudor
shunted out all his servants soon afterwards. Miss Payne was shown into
his study. She had her tea there, and her dinner. The Hugo half-guinea
dinner was ordered late by telephone for two persons, and rushed up at
eight o'clock.'

'I wonder Mr. Tudor didn't order an orchestra with the dinner,' said
Hugo grimly. It was a sublime effort on his part to be his natural self.

'I waited for Miss Payne to leave,' continued Albert Shawn. 'That's why
I'm so late.'

'And what time did she leave?'