“Oh, how tiresome of you, Mr. Laing!”
“Send ‘em round first thing to-morrow, Laing.”
“But—but I don’t know where I put ‘em. I know I laid ‘em down. Then I took ‘em up. Then I put ‘em—where the deuce did I put ‘em? Here’s a go, Miss Bellairs! I say, I am an ass!”
No contradiction assailed him. His victims glared reproachfully at him.
“I must have left them at Cannes. I’ll wire first thing in the morning, Miss Bellairs; I’ll get up as soon as ever the office is open. I say, do forgive me.”
“Well, Mr. Laing, I’ll try, but——”
“Laing! Here! My wife wants you,” shouted Sir Roger, and the criminal, happy to escape, ran away, leaving Dora and Charlie alone.
“They must have been from them,” murmured Dora.
“No doubt; and that fool Laing——”
“What has he done with them?”