“I left a girl here last night, Natalie,” he said. “Do you happen to know what became of her?”
Natalie stirred on her pillows.
“I should think I do. She fainted, or pretended to faint. The servants looked after her.”
“Has she gone?”
“I hope so. It is almost noon. Oh, by the way,” she called, as he moved off, “there is a message for you. A woman named Gould, from the Central Hospital. She wants to see you at once. They have kept the telephone ringing all the morning.”
Clare Gould! That was odd. He had seen her taken out, a bruised and moaning creature, her masses of fair hair over her shoulders, her eyes shut. The surgeons had said she was not badly hurt. She might be worse than they thought. The mention of her name brought Audrey before him. He hoped, wherever she was, she would know that he was all right.
As soon as he had changed he called the hospital. The message came back promptly and clearly.
“We have a woman named Gould here. She is not badly hurt, but she is hysterical. She wants to see you, but if you can't come at once I am to give you a message. Wait a moment. She has written it, but it's hardly legible.”
Clayton waited.
“It's about somebody you know, who had gone on night turn recently at your plant. I can't read the name. It looks like Ballantine.”