“Ah, then I guessed correctly. That is why you are disconsolate,” she said, looking at him frankly.
“It may be. At present I am chiefly curious. How did you obtain my London address?”
“Didn’t you telegraph it?”
“To Miss Dane—yes.”
“You dear man, what would you have done if a telegram were brought to a remote place in the Highlands for a lady whom you knew was gone goodness knows where in a yacht?”
“Surely it might have been forwarded to her?”
“Yes, if you or I, or any other reasonable being, were the addressee. But the Baumgartners gave instructions that everything was to be sent to their London house, which is closed, except for a caretaker. Mrs. Baumgartner herself told me they did not expect to be in town under a month or six weeks.”
“Have they vanished into thin air?”
“Something of the kind. They spoke vaguely of a cruise round the Shetlands, but I am sure that was meant as a blind. They wouldn’t take Figuero and von Rippenbach as their sailing companions for the mere fun of the thing, would they?”
“Did they offer no excuse to their guests?”