“Thank God, Bunter, you’re human after all. I didn’t know anybody could do you. Have a drink.”
“I am much obliged to your lordship. According to instructions, I searched the platform for a lady in a crimson hat and a grey fur, and at length was fortunate enough to observe her making her way out by the station entrance towards the big bookstall. She was some way ahead of me, but the hat was very conspicuous, and, in the words of the poet, if I may so express myself, I followed the gleam.”
“Stout fellow.”
“Thank you, my lord. The lady walked into the Station Hotel, which, as you know, has two entrances, one upon the platform, and the other upon the street. I hurried after her for fear she should give me the slip, and made my way through the revolving doors just in time to see her back disappearing into the Ladies’ Retiring Room.”
“Whither, as a modest man, you could not follow her. I quite understand.”
“Quite so, my lord. I took a seat in the entrance hall, in a position from which I could watch the door without appearing to do so.”
“And discovered too late that the place had two exits, I suppose. Unusual and distressin’.”
“No, my lord. That was not the trouble. I sat watching for three quarters of an hour, but the crimson hat did not reappear. Your lordship will bear in mind that I had never seen the lady’s face.”
Lord Peter groaned.
“I foresee the end of this story, Bunter. Not your fault. Proceed.”