CHAPTER 11ON THE first floor he concluded that the door at the end of the corridor on his right must be the one he was looking for, if Miss Caroline Winship’s sitting room overlooked the Square as Mr. Pinkerton had told him it did. The low murmur of voices inside broke off sharply as he knocked on the white painted panel. The silence seemed ominously intense as he waited. He was about to knock again when the door opened abruptly. It was Eric Dalrymple-Hughes.
He stared silently for an instant, said “Oh,” and relaxed into a bored nonchalance that was patently too studied.
“I’m Daniel McGrath. I’d like to speak to Miss Caroline Winship.”
“My aunt is—”
“Ask him to come in, Eric.”
Miss Winship’s heavy voice cut him off curtly. He shrugged and stepped aside. “Come in, will you?”
As Dan we
