THAT night Mr. Arnold Bertram did not return to the Hotel Belleclaire. Moreover, Trenmore discovered with some annoyance that the Cerberus was again missing. He had thrust the thing in his pocket and forgotten it. Now the vial was gone, either lost in the streets, or, more probably, again confiscated by their rotund and assimilative friend the burglar.
Morning came, but no Bertram. Drayton was first dressed, and he was waiting in the parlor when the others appeared. A moment of silence was followed by a sudden deep chuckle from Trenmore and a little shriek from Viola.
"Why, you two absurd men!" she cried. "You're wearing exactly the same things as yesterday! You haven't even had them pressed! Terry, your trousers look as if you'd slept in them-not a sign of a crease. What will your true love be thinking?"
Trenmore flung back his head with a comical look of defiance. "Let her think what she likes. I've no liking for goods no better than stole, Penn Service or no Penn Service! I pay for my clothes, or I'll wear none. But you've no cause to be talking, Viola. Where's the pretty new gown you were to be wearing? And Bobby, what about those fine ash-grays you were choosing so carefully yesterday?"
"I meant to wear them. If we intended to keep faith with the lady who provided them, I should certainly have worn them. As it is-" Drayton shrugged.
"And I," confessed Viola, "couldn't bring myself to touch anything that woman gave me. She must take us as we are or not at all. It's ten o'clock-and there's the telephone. I expect that is my Lady Green-eyes."
It was. She looked disappointed and more than a trifle hurt when she saw their costumes and learned their intention not to change. She herself was resplendent in a gown of pale-yellow satin, under a magnificent fitted coat of Irish lace. Trenmore placated her for their shabby appearance as best he could, and dropping that subject, though with obvious annoyance, the Loveliest inquired for the missing Bertram.
"We've no idea at all where he is, madam. He went out last night, though I argued it with him, and we've seen neither hide nor hair of the lad since that time."
She seemed little concerned. "He will probably show up at the Temple. If he has lost his green button and got himself arrested, he is sure to be there. Shall we go now?"
Descending to the lady's car, they found Broad Street crowded with an immense and mostly stationary throng. Narrow lanes had been cleared by the police for such pedestrians and motor cars as might prefer moving along. A few cars belonging, they were informed, to various officials, were parked in the middle of the street.