They all leaned a little forward. The manager included them in his confidence.
"The young gentleman you probably know, Mr. Wingate," he said,—"has the suite just underneath yours—Mr. Stanley Rees, his name is—disappeared last night."
"Disappeared?" Lady Amesbury repeated.
"Stanley Rees?" Kendrick exclaimed.
The manager nodded.
"A very pleasant young gentleman," he continued, "wealthy, too. He is a nephew of Mr. Peter Phipps, Chairman of the Directors of the British and Imperial Granaries. It seems he dressed for dinner, came down to the bar to have a cocktail, leaving his coat and hat and scarf up in his room, and telling his valet that he would return for them in ten minutes. He hasn't been seen or heard of since."
"Sounds like the 'Arabian Nights,'" Jimmy declared. "Probably found he was a bit late for his grub and went on without his coat and hat."
"What about not coming back all night, sir?" the manager asked.
"Lads will be lads," Jimmy answered sententiously.
The manager showed an entire lack of sympathy with his attitude.