Читать книгу Murder Must Advertise. A Detective Story онлайн

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“Yes,” said Mr. Bredon. “They must be. There seems to be more in advertising than, so to speak, meets the eye.”

“There is,” said Mr. Hankin, a little grimly. “Well, get some copy written and bring it along to me. You know where to find my room?”

“Oh, yes—at the end of the corridor, near the iron staircase.”

“No, no, that's Mr. Armstrong. At the other end of the corridor, near the other staircase—not the iron staircase. By the way—”

“Yes?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Mr. Hankin, vaguely. “That is to say—no, nothing.”

Mr. Bredon gazed after his retreating figure, and shook his fair head in a meditative manner. Then, applying himself to his task, he wrote out, rather quickly, a couple of paragraphs in praise of margarine and wandered out with them. Turning to the right, he paused opposite the door of Ingleby's room and stared irresolutely at the iron staircase. As he stood there, the glass door of a room on the opposite side of the corridor opened and a middle-aged man shot out. Seeing Bredon, he paused in his rush for the stairhead and inquired: