As he turned away, wondering in which direction he could next inquire, it suddenly occurred to him that he should ascertain if anything had happened to his motor car. He therefore took a second cab and drove to Rupert Street, in which the garage was situated.
As he entered the yard the manager stepped forward; and the astonishment on his face was even greater than that exhibited by the doorkeeper at Westerham's flat.
“I am afraid, sir,” he said before Westerham had time to speak, “that we have made some terrible blunder. A gentleman called here this afternoon and said that he had been asked to see me on your behalf. He said that he had received a telegram from Holyhead asking him to see that your car was sent up to Chester, as you would be staying there for some days. Your man was to wait for you at the Blossoms Hotel.”
Westerham could scarcely disguise his anger.
“What was this—gentleman like?” he demanded.
“Well, sir,” said the manager of the garage, eyeing him anxiously, “I didn't take much account of him, though he appeared a very pleasant gentleman indeed. He was, I should say, tall and dark.”
“Hook nose and black eyes?” suggested Westerham, helpfully.
“Just so, sir, just so.”
Westerham ground his teeth with rage. “Of course,” he said to the man, “I do not blame you—I cannot—but you've been hoaxed. I sent no orders about my car. I intended it to remain here until I sent for it. I may want it at any moment now, and the inconvenience and the loss of it may be great. You'd better wire to Chester for the man to return at once.”
The manager of the garage was by this time greatly alarmed. His own suspicions led in the direction of theft, and the prospect of a considerable loss in reputation, if not a considerable loss in pocket, scared him very much.