What have they to do with Mr.Hamilton Fynes ?" The clerk pointed to the open door of a small private office.
"If you will step this way for one moment, madam," he begged.
She tapped the floor with her foot and looked at him curiously.
Certainly the people around seemed to be taking some interest in their conversation.
"Why should I ?" she asked.

"Cannot you answer my question here ?" "If madam will be so good," he persisted.
She shrugged her shoulders and followed him.

Something in the man's earnest tone and almost pleading look convinced her, at least, of his good intentions.

Besides, the interest which her question had undoubtedly aroused amongst the bystanders was, to say the least of it, embarrassing.

He pulled the door to after them.
"Madam," he said, "there was a Mr.Hamilton Fynes who came over by the Lusitania, and who had certainly engaged rooms in this hotel, but he unfortunately, it seems, met with an accident on his way from Liverpool." Her manner changed at once.