Roger, before saying good-night to his mother, had let fall a casual question as to the whereabouts of the room which still contained the _debris_ of the London house.

He must, he said, look up two or three things, some share certificates of his father's, for instance, that he had been in want of for some time.
Lady Barnes directed him.

At the end of the nursery wing, to the right.
But in the morning one of the housemaids would show him.

Had she the key?
She produced it, thought no more of it, and went to bed.
He waited in his room till after midnight, then took off his shoes, his pride smarting, and emerged.

There was one electric light burning in the hall below.