“There's a lady staying here. She was to have traveled with me to London. I'm afraid she's not been wakened.”
“A lady!” The clerk looked up with the bored expression of one who was impervious to romance. “A lady! Oh, yes.”
“She's a passenger from the Ryndam,” he continued. “Her name's Miss Gorlof. Send some one to her room to find out at once——”
The night-porter interrupted. Addressing the clerk, he said: “The gentleman means the foreign-looking lady wot I told you about—the one in all the furs.” Then to Hindwood, “She was called for at six this mornin'. A gentleman in goggles, who couldn't speak no English, arrived in a tourin' car and drove off with 'er.”
“Drove off with her. But——”
Realizing that too much emotion would make him appear ridiculous, he steadied his voice and asked casually, “I suppose she left a note for me?”
The clerk glanced across his shoulder at the rack. “Your name's Mr. Hindwood, isn't it?” He raised his hand to a pigeonhole lettered “H”. “You can see for yourself, sir. There's nothing in it.”
“Then perhaps it was a verbal message. She would be certain to leave me her address.”
The clerk turned to the night-porter. “Did she?” The night-porter beamed with satisfaction. “She did not.”
He had achieved his dramatic effect.