"Very good, sir," said Coates, and proceeded to make the call, whilst I sat listlessly smoking and listening to his voice. Presently:
"Miss Merlin did not appear to-night, sir," he announced: "she is indisposed."
"I thought as much," I muttered. "I could hardly have expected after such a day of horror and excitement that she would have been capable of appearing to-night. Ring up her flat, Coates," I added. "I should like to speak to her, for I know she is in great trouble."
"Indeed, sir," Coates permitted himself to remark. "Is it something to do with the discovery at the docks this morning, sir?"
"It is, Coates," I replied. "It is an utterly damnable business."
"Indeed, sir," said Coates again, and went to the telephone.
Three minutes later I was talking to Isobel.
"I find it utterly impossible to tell you what has happened," she declared, "since I saw you last. I feel incapable of thinking, and of course it was quite out of the question for me to go to the theater to-night. But it is not so bad as it might have been." She hesitated, then: "I was only able to give them very short notice unfortunately, but from a selfish point of view, as you know—I was leaving the stage—very shortly—"
"Yes," I answered dully, "I know; but have you seen the police?"
"I have seen Inspector Gatton," she replied; "but as he told me that he was coming along to you, no doubt you know what took place."