There was a new clerk on duty when Hall reached the hotel, a wiry man of forty-odd whose yellow silk shirt clashed with both his black mohair jacket and his long, lined face. Hall asked for the key to Room 306 in Spanish.
The clerk cleared his throat and answered in English. "There was messages," he said, handing the key to Hall with a sheaf of slips. "And also this." From under the counter he drew a sealed letter written on heavy paper and bearing the neat blue imprint of the American Embassy at San Hermano on the envelope.
Hall frowned and tore open the envelope.
"Señorita the Ambassador's daughter telephoned twice," the clerk said.
"Thank you."
"It's on this slip, Mr. Hall."
"Thanks again." He read the few handwritten lines of the letter. It was an invitation from the Ambassador's daughter, Margaret Skidmore, to attend the Ambassador's party at the Embassy on the 5th. That was two nights off.
There was a message from Jerry Olmstead. She had phoned from her room to leave word that she had retired for the evening but would meet him in the dining room at ten for breakfast. Hall noticed that the clerk was watching him intently as he read the girl's message, but when he started to read the next slip the clerk interrupted him.
"It's from Mr. Roger Fielding," he said. "I took the message myself. He is a very nice person. An Englishman."
On the slip the clerk had written, "Mr. Fielding is very sorry you were not in because it is important. He will call you again."