“That’s what I thought myself,” responded Blanchard.
“Pardon me,” interposed Anthony, “when Mr. and Mrs. Stewart, to grant them temporarily the name they gave themselves, left here in a hurry—do you happen to remember if they went by taxi?”
“Atkins might know—would you care to ask him?”
“Thank you,” replied Anthony.
Blanchard repeated his previous business with the telephone and in ready response the porter arrived.
“You remember Mr. and Mrs. Stewart, Atkins, the lady and gentleman that left in such an almighty hurry on Wednesday night?”
“Yes, sir—very well, sir—I was on duty down below, sir, when they went out.”
“Very well, then—you’ll be able to answer what this gentleman wishes to know—did you call a taxi for them?”
Atkins shook his head. “No, sir! They went on foot—each of ’em carrying a suitcase.”
“Another piece of bad luck,” muttered Goodall to Anthony. “We always seem to run up against a brick wall!”