He looked still more puzzled.
"Did she really?" he answered in a tone of surprise which obviously was feigned.
"Yes. Didn't you know?"
"This is the first I have heard of it, but I dare say you are right. Mrs. Stapleton has rooms in this houseit's a little private establishment of minebut beyond that I know little of her movements. I'll go and inquire if you'll wait a moment."
"Clever scoundrel!" I said aloud when he had left the room and shut the door. "Rooms here," "knows little of her movements," "first he has heard of it." But I am going to bowl you out in the end, my friend, I ended mentally as I seated myself and picked up one of the morning papers which lay upon the table. It was the Morning Post. I noticed that several little bits had been cut out of the front pagepresumably advertisements.
I had scanned one or two pages and was reading a leading article when Gastrell returned.
"You are quite right," he said, offering me his cigarette case. "Miss Challoner is here. After supper last night at the Carlton with Mrs. Stapleton she didn't feel very well, so Mrs. Stapleton persuaded her to come back and sleep here instead of motoring back to Newbury. She told her maid to telegraph early this morning to Sir Roland Challoner, in case he should feel anxious at Miss Challoner's not returning last night, but the maid stupidly forgot to. She is sending a telegram now. Miss Challoner is quite all right this morning, and will be down presently, but I am afraid you won't be able to see Mrs. Stapleton, as she isn't up yet."
I thanked him for finding out, thinking, as I did so, that certainly he was one of the most plausible liars I had ever come across; and then for a few minutes we conversed on general topics.
"You don't remember who it was told you my address?" he presently asked carelessly, flicking his cigarette ash into the grate.
"I am sorry, I don't," I answered, pretending to think. "It was some days ago that somebody or other told me you lived here, or rather that you had an address here."