“She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point cleared up at once. There’s the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her now.”
“Why not?” said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening, and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the Continent for a few days.
This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the detective. He grew red in the face.
“What’s that?” he cried assertively. “Gone to the Continent? I should have been told about this. Why wasn’t I informed? What part of the Continent has she gone to?”
Mr. Manderton’s questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant. He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
“She’s gone to the Continent and left no address,” he said quickly.
“Ask him if Lady Margaret is there,” suggested Robin.
Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to say that she had gone.