As we mounted I could see that Turner—the night porter's name is Turner—was wondering what possible business I could have with Mrs. Peddar that I should rouse her out of her warm bed at that hour of the night. It occurred to me to ask him a question or two.
"Has a lady come up lately?"
"Up where?"
"Up to the first floor—or anywhere?" He shook his head. "You're sure?"
"Certain. No lady's come into this building for a good two hours, at any rate. The last was Mrs. Sabin; she and her husband's on the fourth floor. They've been to the Gaiety Theatre: I took 'em up in the lift. She was the last lady as came in, and that was just after eleven."
His words set me thinking. If my visitor had not come in through the doorway, how then had she gained access to my balcony, which is on the first floor, and between twenty and thirty feet above the ground. Turner volunteered a statement on his own account.
"And the last man who went out was Mr. Lawrence's brother."
I pricked up my ears at this.
"Mr. Lawrence's brother? Oh."
"Yes—Mr. Philip, I think his name is. He came down not three minutes before I saw you, just as I was going to take up Mr. Maynard—
