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When she reached her flat at last and opened the door, she saw several hats in the hall. They were all there. She went into the drawing-room.
"Oh, you poor things, I've kept you waiting so long!" she cried out. "Have you had no tea?"
"Well," they said. "Well? Did you manage to get hold of him?"
"My dears, I've got something quite wonderful to tell you, I'm going to write a detective story."
They looked at her with open mouths.
"I'm going to raise the detective story to the level of art. It came to me suddenly in Hyde Park. It's a murder story and I shall call it 'The Achilles Statue'!"
"But what about Albert?" the young writer asked.
"Albert?" repeated Mrs Forrester. "I knew I went out to do something about Albert, but I've quite forgotten what it was."
"Then you haven't seen Albert?"
"My dear, I say I forgot all about him."
She gave a laugh. "Let Albert keep his cook. I can't bother about Albert now. I'm going to write a detective story."
"My dear, you're too, too wonderful!" the guests cried out.
