This so staggered Tad that Grant had difficulty in dragging him away from the later ports-of-call. He went round and round the filled racks in an unbelieving daze.
‘They must be here,’ he kept saying. ‘They must be here.’
But they were not there.
As they came out on to the street, baffled, after their last bet had gone down the drain, he said: ‘Inspector, I mean Mr Grant, where else is there that you would leave luggage after checking out of a hotel? Have you those personal lock-up places?’
‘Only limited-period ones. For people who want to park a case for an hour or two while they do something.’
‘Well, where are Bill’s things, why aren’t they in any of the obvious places?’
‘I don’t know. They may be with his girl.’
‘What girl?’
‘I don’t know. He was young, and handsome, and celibate; he would have a fairly wide choice.’
‘Yes, of course. That’s maybe what he did with them. Which reminds me.’ His face lost its discontented, purposeless look. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly dinner-time. ‘I’ve got a date with that girl in the milk-bar.’ He caught Grant’s eye and looked faintly abashed. ‘But I’ll stand her up if you think I can be any good to you.’