506 ANGEL PAVEMENT

just imagination. He had only to sleep better and eat
more and all would be well.

His decision was to see Lena and have it out with
her that very night, if by chance he could find her in the
flat. He knew that her father would not be there, be-
cause when he had gone to the telephone to ring up
Levy, Mr. Golspie had put a call through from the
private office, and it had been to book a table for two
at a restaurant. On this the cunning shadower in Turgis
pounced at once. Mr. Golspie sometimes took his
daughter out for the evening, but Turgis was certain
that he would not trouble to book a table for her. He
had not sounded like a man who was spending the
evening with his daughter. If Lena was out, then she
was out, and Turgis would have to wait, but he knew
she did not go out every night and this was a chance
not to be missed. At eight o'clock or just after, when
Mr. Golspie was well out of the way, sitting down in
his West End restaurant, he would go to the flat and,
if Lena was there, he would see her and talk to her in
that room of theirs again. He would see her, whatever
happened. Whatever happens, whatever happens-z
voice inside him said it over and over again as the Friday
afternoon, fussy and irritable because of its week-end
rush of things-that-must-be-settled-at-once, dragged on,
with the last dripping traces of snow fading outside the
window

"Finished that copying, Miss Sellers?" said Mr,
Smeeth, as he began to put away his books. "That's
the way. Well have that new boy here on Monday, and
then you'll have; it easier, eh? You cleared up, Turgis?
Did you have a word with Ockley and Sons—y'know, I
mentioned it to you this morning?"