Probably I should have run across them just a little later, anyway, but the results could have been quite different. It simply happened that I turned into the cross-corridor when they were up the other end of it, with their backs towards me, and I noticed them peering up and down the far main-passage in the manner of people making sure that the coast was clear. Jean I recognized at once; even the distant glimpse of her profile was enough. Of the man, with his back towards me, I registered only that there was something familiar about him. But for the furtive, scouting look about them I doubt whether I should have paid much attention – at least, I should not have followed them – but once I had noticed that, it occurred to me that there was only one place they could have come from, and that was old Whetstone’s room – it is still known as ‘old Whetstone’s room’ although he died more than two years ago. There wasn’t any reason why Jean shouldn’t go there if she wanted to. After all, since Whetstone was her father, all the stuff in the room is, legally speaking, hers – although in point of fact it just stays there under dustsheets because nobody has liked to start taking it to pieces.
