The young man drifted silently away, and Hunterleys, after a moment's hesitation and a glance at his watch, turned towards the Club. He climbed the broad staircase, surrendered his hat and turned in at the roulette room. The magic of the music was still in his veins, and he looked around him almost eagerly. There was no sign of Violet. He strolled into the baccarat room but she was not there. Perhaps she, too, had been at the Opera. In the bar he found Richard Lane, sitting moodily alone. The young man greeted him warmly.
"Come and have a drink, Sir Henry," he begged. "I've got the hump."
Hunterleys sat down by his side.
"Whiskey and apollinaris," he ordered. "What's the matter with you, Richard?"
"She isn't here," the young man declared. "I've been to the Rooms and she isn't there either."
"What about the Opera?" Hunterleys asked.
"I started at the Opera," Lane confessed, "took a box so as to be able to see the whole house. I sat through the first act but there wasn't a sign of her. Then I took a spin out and had another look at the villa. It was all lit up as though there were a party. I very nearly marched in."
"Just as well you didn't, I think," Hunterleys remarked, smiling. "I see you're feeling just the same about it."
The young man did not even vouchsafe an answer.
"Then you're not going to take advantage of your little warning and clear out?" Hunterleys continued.