He closed the book and handed it back to Dicker.
“It is certainly queer, that erased entry. I’ll speak to Foss about it as soon as I can find him,” he said.
He went immediately to the little hotel where Foss was staying, but he was out.
“I don’t think he came home last night,” said the manager. “If he did, he didn’t sleep in his bed. He said he was going to London,” he added.
Michael went back to the studio, for it had begun to rain, and he knew that that would drive the company from location. His surmise was correct: the big yellow char-à-banc came rumbling into the yard a few minutes after he got there. Adele saw him, and was passing with a nod when he called her to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Brixan, but we lunched on location, and I have two big scenes to read for to-morrow.”
Her refusal was uncompromising, but Michael was not the type who readily accepted a “No.”
“What about tea? You’ve got to drink tea, my good lady, though you have fifty scenes to study. And you can’t read and eat too. If you do, you’ll get indigestion, and if you get indigestion——”
She laughed.
“If my landlady will loan me her parlour, you may come to tea at half-past four,” she said; “and if you have another engagement at five o’clock, you’ll be able to meet it.”