At the Violet-royal purple everywhere and yellow curtains-no one had seen her. Robert, casting subtleties aside, asked them bluntly.
Upstairs at Griffon and Waldron's, the big store, it was rush hour and the waitress said: "Don't bother me!" The manageress, looking at him with absent-minded suspicion, said: "We never give information about our customers."
At the Old Oak-small and dark and friendly-the elderly waitresses discussed the case interestedly with him. "Poor love," they said. "What an experience for her. Such a nice face, too. Just a baby. Poor love."
At the Alencon-cream paint and old-rose couches against the walls-they made it plain that they had never heard of the Ack-Emma and could not possibly have a client whose photograph appeared in such a publication.
At the Heave Ho-marine frescos and waitresses in bell-bottomed trousers-the attendants gave it as their unanimous opinion that any girl who took a lift should expect to have to walk home.
At the Primrose-old polished tables with raffia mats and thin unprofessional waitresses in flowered smocks-they discussed the social implications of lack of domestic service and the vagaries of the adolescent mind.
At the Tea-Pot there was no table to be had, and no waitress willing to attend to him; but a second glance at the fly-blown place made him sure that, with the others to choose from, Betty Kane would not have come here.
At half-past twelve he staggered into the lounge of the Midland, and called for strong waters. As far as he knew he had covered all the likely eating-places in the centre of Larborough and in not one of them had anyone remembered seeing the girl. What was worse, everyone agreed that if she had been there they would have remembered her. They had pointed out, when Robert was sceptical of that, that a large proportion of their customers on any one day were regulars, so that the casuals stood out from the rest and were noted and remembered automatically.
As Albert, the tubby little lounge waiter, set his drink in front of him, Robert asked, more out of habit than volition: "I suppose you've never seen this girl in your place, Albert?"
Albert looked at the front page of the Ack-Emma and shook his head. "No, sir. Not that I recollect. Looks a little young, sir, if I may say so, for the lounge of the Midland."