I was in a furious temper. The events of the night before, strange though they had been, left me comparatively unmoved. I was filled, however, with a thoroughly British indignation at the nature of this note. My room had been broken into in the middle of the night; I had narrowly escaped being myself the victim of a serious and murderous assault; and now I was calmly told to leave the hotel! I hastened downstairs and into the office.
"I wish to see the manager as soon as possible," I said to one of the reception clerks behind the counter.
"Certainly, sir, what name?" he asked; drawing a slip of paper towards him.
"Courage—" I told him, "Mr. Hardross Courage!"
The man's manner underwent a distinct change.
"I am sorry, sir," he said, "but Mr. Blumentein is engaged. Is there anything I can do?"
"No!" I answered him bluntly. "I want the manager, and no one else will do. If he cannot see me now I will wait. If he does not appear in a reasonable time, I shall go direct to Scotland Yard and lay certain information before the authorities there."
The clerk stared at me, and then smiled in a tolerant manner. He was short and dark, and wore glasses. His manner was pleasant enough, but he had the air of endeavoring to soothe a fractious child—which annoyed me.
"I will send a message down to Mr. Blumentein, sir," he said, "but he is very busy this morning."
He called a boy, but, after a moment's hesitation, he left the office himself. I lit a cigarette, and waited with as much patience as I could command. The people who passed in and out interested me very little. Suddenly, however, I gave a start and looked up quickly.