The night watchman brought the armchair for Hewson. He tried to make him laugh.
‘Where do I put it, sir?’ he asked. ‘Just here? Then you can talk to Dr Crippen, when you get tired of doing nothing. Or there’s old Mrs Dyer over there making eyes at you. She usually likes to have a man to talk to. Just tell me where, sir.’
Hewson smiled. The man’s words made him feel happier – tonight’s work didn’t seem quite so difficult.
‘I can choose a place for it, thank you,’ he said.
‘Well, goodnight, sir. I’m on the floor above if you want me. Don’t let any of these figures come up behind you and put their cold hands round your throat. And look out for that old Mrs Dyer. I think she finds you interesting.’
