"Prrrring-g!"
Ah, the telephone bell again. The message from Lady Golightly-Long.
She is speaking herself, in a deep, drawly voice. She tells me that she knows nothing of Miss Million's movements.
"I left her there. I left them all there, at the Thousand and One," she drawls. "I was the first to leave. Miss Million was there, with Lord Fourcastles and the rest of them when I left.... What?... The time? Oh, I never know times. It wasn't very late. Early, I mean. I left her there."
And she rings off. So that's drawn a blank. Well, now what am I to do next?
I think I'd better go round to the club itself and make inquiries there about the missing heiress!
I have just come back from making inquiries at the Thousand and One Club.
The place looked strangely tawdry and make-believe this morning. Rather like ballroom finery of the night before, seen in daylight. I interviewed a sallow-faced attendant in the vestibule, whence I had got those glimpses of the larking and frolicking in the supper-room last night.
Miss Million? He didn't know anything about a lady of that name. With Miss Vi Vassity's party, had she been? Miss Vi Vassity always had a rare lot of friends with her. He'd seen her, of course, Miss Vi Vassity, all right. Several young ladies with her.
"But a small, dark-haired young lady, in a bright cerise dress, with spangles on it?" I urged. "She was sitting—I'll show you her place at the table. There! Don't you remember?"