"She began by asking if Mr. George Fentiman was here, my lord."
"Oh, hades!"
Bunter advanced gently with his master's dressing-gown and slippers. Wimsey thrust himself into them savagely and padded away to the telephone.
"Hullo!"
"Is that Lord Peter?—Oh, good!" The line sighed with relief—a harsh sound, like a death-rattle. "Do you know where George is?"
"No idea. Hasn't he come home?"
"No—and I'm frightened. Some people were here this morning...."
"The police."
"Yes ... George ... they found something ... I can't say it all over the 'phone ... but George went off to Walmisley-Hubbard's with the car ... and they say he never came back there ... and ... you remember that time he was so funny before ... and got lost...."
"Your six minutes are up," boomed the voice of the Exchange, "will you have another call?"