Some letters in Dale's round handwriting lay on the library table awaiting my signature.

Dale himself had gone.

A lady had called for him, said Rogers, in an electric brougham.

As my chambers are on the second floor and the staircase half-way down the arcade, Rogers's detailed information surprised me.

I asked him how he knew.
"A chauffeur in livery, sir, came to the door and said that the brougham was waiting for Mr.Kynnersley." "I don't see how the lady came in," I remarked.
"She didn't, sir.