"Do you mind telling me your other name?"
"Christian names already? With all the pleasure in life, dear," came back the eager answer. "Here's a health to those that love me, and me name's Julian!"
With another gasp I hung up the receiver, cutting off this other, this unknown "J. Burke," whom I had evoked in my flurry and the anxiety that caused the addresses in the telephone book to dance before my eyes.
I got the number of the Honourable James Burke, and found myself speaking, I suppose, to somebody in the Jermyn Street hairdresser's shop, above which, as I'd heard from Mr. Brace, the Honourable Jim lived in a single room.
"No, Madam, I am afraid he is not in," was the answer here. "I am afraid I couldn't tell you, Madam. I don't know at all. Will you leave any message?"
"No, thank you."
It didn't seem worth while, for, as Mr. Brace said, he's never there. He's always to be found in some expensive haunt.
Next I rang up the abode in Mount Street of the cobra-woman, the classic dancer, Lady Golightly-Long. Her maid informed me, rebukefully, that her ladyship wasn't up yet; her ladyship wasn't awake. I left a message, and the maid will ring me up here.... There may be something to hope for from that, but I shall have to wait. I seem to have waited years!
Now, in desperation, I have got on to Lord Fourcastles's house.
"No; his lordship has not been at home for several days."