“You've found out something!” she said. “Oh, what is it, Giles?”
“No, I haven't,” he said. “That's what I hope to do! At present I've only got a suspicion. I'm not going to tell you any more in case I'm wrong. But I do tell you not to worry.”
“All right,” she said. “If you say I needn't I won't.”
It was past six o'clock when Giles Carrington left the studio. He delivered the suitcase first, and then, after a glance at his wrist-watch, drove to the Temple, and changed into evening dress. His subsequent proceedings might not have seemed to Antonia to be the actions of a man trying to aid her brother. He visited three cocktail bars, four hotels, one night-club, and two dance-halls. He partook of refreshment in all of these resorts, and engaged various head-waiters, assistant-waiters, hallporters, and page-boys in conversations which they at least found profitable. He reached his flat again in the small hours, swallowed a couple of aspirin tablets in the hope of defeating the inevitable headache, and got thankfully into bed.
In the morning, when his man brought in the early tea-tray, he awoke with a good deal of reluctance, and said: “Oh, God! Not tea. One of your pick-me-ups. And turn on my bath.”
“Yes, sir,” said his man, thinking it was funny of Mr Carrington to go out on the binge when his family was in such a packet of trouble.
A bath, followed by an excellent pick-me-up, more or less restored Giles. He was able to face the task of shaving, and even, when that was over, to partake of a very modest breakfast. While he sipped a cup of strong coffee, he told his man to put through a call to Scotland Yard, and to ask for Superintendent Hannasyde.
Superintendent Hannasyde, however, was not in the building, and an inquiry for Sergeant Hemingway was equally fruitless. The voice at the other end of the telephone was polite but unhelpful, and after a moment's reflection Giles thanked the unknown, said that it didn't matter, and rang off. His next call was to his own office, and his man, hovering discreetly in the background, had his curiosity whetted by hearing that Mr Carrington was to be told that Mr Giles Carrington had important business out of town, and would not be at the office that day. It was certainly a queer set-out, and what Mr Giles Carrington thought he was playing at heaven alone knew.
At half-past five in the afternoon Giles walked into Scotland Yard and once more asked for Superintendent Hannasyde. This time he was more fortunate; the Superintendent had come in not half an hour earlier. He was with the Assistant Commissioner at the moment, but if Mr Carrington would care to wait? Mr Carrington nodded, and sat down to wait for twenty minutes. At the end of that time he was escorted to Hannasyde's office, and found Hannasyde standing by his desk, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
Hannasyde looked up: “Good-afternoon, Mr Carrington. I'm sorry I was out when you rang up this morning. I've had rather a busy day.” He looked more narrowly at Giles, and said: “Sit down. You look as though you'd been having a busy day too.”