Out of Context

The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu
Sax Rohmer

“Who are you?” he asked. “You’re not from Scotland Yard, at any rate!”

Smith pulled out a card and thrust it into the speaker’s hand.

“If you are the hotel detective,” he said, “take us without delay to Mr. Graham Guthrie.”

A marked change took place in the other’s demeanor on glancing at the card in his hand.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said deferentially, “but, of course, I didn’t know who I was speaking to. We all have instructions to give you every assistance.”

“Is Mr. Guthrie in his room?”

“He’s been in his room for some time, sir. You will want to get there without being seen? This way. We can join the lift on the third floor.”

Off we went again, with our new guide. In the lift:

“Have you noticed anything suspicious about the place tonight?” asked Smith.

“I have!” was the startling reply. “That accounts for your finding me where you did. My usual post is in the lobby. But about eleven o’clock, when the theater people began to com ein I had a hazy sort of impression that someone or something slipped past in the crowd–something that had no business in the hotel.”

We got out of the lift.