“Yes, Madame—but there isn’t anyone here by the name of Benton. If it’s Hugh Benton’s home you wish, I can give you the number. It——”
“No—this is the number I wish. Kindly call Mrs. Thurston to the ’phone.”
“Mrs. and Mr. Thurston are both in Atlantic City—until to-morrow.”
Marjorie felt the ground giving way beneath her feet. She clutched at the desk for support as she inquired:
“Where is Miss Thurston?”
“In bed, Madame. At least, I suppose she is. She returned home about twelve o’clock and went straight to her room. Do you wish me to call her?”
“No—no—it will not be necessary. I—I made a mistake—that is all. Somehow I was under the impression that Miss Thurston was entertaining at dinner this evening, but I realize now that it was—someone else.”
“Yes, Madame. That must be it,” the butler agreed. “Because Miss Thurston went out to dinner and the theater with a gentleman this evening.”
“Thank you—I—I’m sorry to have disturbed you at this hour.”
“That’s all right, Madame. Do you care to leave your name for Mrs. Thurston?”