Just about this time a man in civilian clothes, but with authority written distinctly on his tanned face, entered the hotel in the Escolta. The proprietor began obsequiously to dry-wash his hands.
"The Señor Morgan!"
"Where's Berta Nordstrom, the woman known as The Yellow Typhoon?"
"She?" A gesture. "She went away a week ago, señor."
"She is here now. She was seen to enter here a little after five."
"That is impossible."
"I say she did. Bring her down. She wore pongee and a white pith helmet."
"She? Oh, that was not the Nordstrom woman. No one here has seen this woman's face. She wears a veil always, and dines in her room."
"Bring her down."
"But, señor, she left at six-thirty."