“Not the least,” quoth Muriel cheerfully; “that is exactly what we have to discover.”
“And how will you be doing that may I ask?”
Muriel leant forward, finger-tips pressed together, [Pg 281]speaking with the decision of one who has thoroughly weighed the whole problem.
“First we must tell General Carden, and see if he knows where he is. I don’t think he does, but we must find out for certain. Then there are his publishers—oh, yes,” in answer to Tommy’s elevated eyebrows—“he has written a book, a very good book indeed, and thereby hangs more of a tale than is enclosed within its covers. Failing both those plans,” she concluded firmly, “Tommy must find him.”
“Faith,” said Father O’Sullivan admiringly, “it’s a fine thing to be a husband!”
And then a second time the drawing-room door opened, and a second time a voice announced, this time in accents of deep reproach, that dinner was on the table.
Muriel looked at both the men. “Oh,” she cried, “didn’t he tell us that before? I feel apologetic. He’s such a treasure, and so is the cook—both artists in their way, and we’re spoiling their artistic efforts. Come, both of you. We’ll talk more at dinner.” A whirl of chiffons and daintiness, she led the way downstairs.
In the intervals of the servant’s absence from [Pg 282]the room, she promulgated plans, like any old veteran at the beginning of a campaign. If they sounded somewhat fantastic plans it is certain that neither man had any better to offer. And what, in her opinion, was more feasible, more practicable, than that Tommy should take the car to Abbotsleigh, where Peter was last seen by Anne, and from there scour the country for a man with a peacock feather in his hat? It was, she assured them both, the simplest of proceedings.
By the end of dinner they had warmed to her ideas, confessing at least that no better solution of the difficulty presented itself to them. Further, she told them, and on this point she was firm, that they must both go that very evening and tell General Carden the present state of affairs. For herself, she thought Anne was expecting her. Yes; she was convinced Anne was expecting her, but she would telephone through and make sure while they were finishing their cigars. Thus she departed from the room.
Anne’s voice at the other end of the telephone presently answered her. Yes, she would be at home that evening, and delighted to see Muriel. But what was the matter of importance of which [Pg 283]Muriel had to speak? Too long to communicate at the moment? Oh, well, Anne must possess her soul in patience till Muriel arrived.