«Trying to get on the track of Sir Reuben's appointment last night, since, with the exception of the cook, his 'appointer' was the last person who saw him before his disappearance. There may be some quite simple explanation, though I'm dashed if I can think of one for the moment. Hang it all, a man doesn't come in and go to bed and walk away again 'mid nodings on' in the middle of the night.»
«He may have been disguised.»
«I thought of that — in fact, it seems the only possible explanation. But it's deuced odd, Wimsey. An important city man, on the eve of an important transaction, without a word of warning to anybody, slips off in the middle of the night, disguised down to his skin, leaving behind his watch, purse, cheque-book, and — most mysterious and important of all — his spectacles, without which he can't see a step, as he is extremely short-sighted. He — »
«That is important,» interrupted Wimsey. «You are sure he didn't take a second pair?»
«His man vouches for it that he had only two pairs, one of which was found on his dressing-table, and the other in the drawer where it is always kept.»
Lord Peter whistled.
«You've got me there, Parker. Even if he'd gone out to commit suicide he'd have taken those.»
«So you'd think — or the suicide would have happened the first time he started to cross the road. However, I didn't overlook the possibility. I've got particulars of all to-day's street accidents, and I can lay my hand on my heart and say that none of them is Sir Reuben. Besides, he took his latchkey with him, which looks as though he'd meant to come back.»
«Have you seen the men he dined with?»
«I found two of them at the club. They said that he seemed in the best of health and spirits, spoke of looking forward to joining Lady Levy later on — perhaps at Christmas — and referred with great satisfaction to this morning's business transaction, in which one of them — a man called Anderson of Wyndham's — was himself concerned.»