“Who was it?”
“I couldn’t quite catch the name, sir. It sounded like Shuffle—something.”
“Shuttleworth!” I cried. “Did he leave any message?”
“No, sir. He merely asked if you were in—that’s all.”
As Sylvia was in London, perhaps Shuttleworth was in town also, I reflected. Yet she had cleverly made her escape—in order to avoid being questioned. Her secret was a guilty one!
I called up Jack, who answered cheerily as usual.
“You didn’t ring me up about one o’clock this morning, did you?” I inquired.
“No. Why?” he asked.
“Oh—well, nothing,” I said. “I thought perhaps it might have been you—that’s all. What time shall you be in at White’s?”
“About four. Will you be there?”