"Will you send my card up and ascertain if I can see Mr. Leslie Guest?" I asked. "He is staying somewhere in the south wing."
"Mr. Leslie Guest left just before one o"clock, sir," the clerk answered.
"Left the hotel!" I repeated. "Why! He was in bed yesterday, and scarcely able to move."
The clerk shrugged his shoulders. He had the air of being a little tired of me.
"He was probably better to-day," he answered. "At any rate, he was well enough to travel."
"Is Mr. James Stanley, of Liverpool, in?" I asked.
"Mr. Stanley paid his bill and went away at eight o"clock this morning,"
the man answered, going back to his ledger.
"I must see the manager at once," I declared firmly.
The clerk called a page-boy.
"Take this gentleman"s name down to Mr. Blumentein," he ordered shortly.
I waited for several minutes. Then the boy returned, and beckoned me to follow him.
"Mr. Blumentein will see you in his office, sir," he announced. "Will you come this way?"
It was a very different Mr. Blumentein who looked up now, as I was shown into his private room. He regarded me with a frown, and his manner was indubitably hostile.
"You wish to speak to me, sir?" he asked curtly.
"I do!" I answered. "There is a good deal going on in your hotel which I do not understand; and I may as well tell you that I am determined to get to the bottom of it. I was drugged in the public smoking-room last night by a man who called himself Stanley, acting in collusion with one of the waiters."
Mr. Blumentein looked at me superciliously.
"Mr. Courage," he said, "the events of last night preclude my taking you seriously any more; but I should like you to understand that you have proved yourself an extremely troublesome guest here."
"What do you mean by the events of last night?" I asked.
"You were drunk in the smoking-room," Mr. Blumentein replied curtly, "and had to be a.s.sisted to your room. Don"t trouble to deny it. There are a dozen witnesses, if necessary. I shall require you to leave the hotel within the next few hours."
"You know very well that I was nothing of the sort," I answered hotly.
"It is easily proved," Mr. Blumentein a.s.serted. "Please understand that I am not prepared to discuss the matter with you."
"Very well," I answered. "Let it go at that. Whilst I was safely put out of the way, several of your guests seem to have left. Will you give me Miss Van Hoyt"s address?"
"I will not," the manager answered.
"Mr. Leslie Guest"s then?"
"I do not know it," he declared.
I turned towards the door.
"Very well, Mr. Blumentein," I said; "but if you imagine that this matter is going to rest where it is, you are very much mistaken. I am going straight to a private detective"s, who is also a friend of mine!"
"Then for Heaven"s sake go to him!" Mr. Blumentein declared irritably.
"We have nothing to conceal here! All that we desire is to be left alone by guests whose conduct about the place is discreditable. Good afternoon, Mr. Courage!"
I returned to my room and had my bag packed. Then I sat down to think. I reviewed the course of events carefully since the night before last. Try how I could, I found it absolutely impossible to arrive at any clear conclusion with regard to them. The whole thing was a phantasmagoria. The one person in whom I had believed, and at whose bidding I was willing to take a hand in this mysterious game, had disappeared without a word of explanation or farewell. There could be only one reasonable course of action for me to pursue, and that was to shrug my shoulders and go my way. I had my own life to live, and although its limitations might be a little obvious, it was yet a reasonable and sane sort of life. Of Adele I refused resolutely to think. I knew very well that I should not be able to forget her. On the other hand, I was convinced now that she was simply making use of me. I would go back home and forget these two days. I would reckon them as belonging to some one else"s life, not mine.
I paid my bill, left the hotel, and caught the five o"clock train from St. Pancras to Medchester. From there I had a ten-mile drive, and it was almost dusk when we turned off the main road into the private approach to Saxby Hall--my old home. Every yard of the land around, half meadow-land, half park, I knew almost by heart; every corner and chimney of the long irregular house was familiar to me. It all looked very peaceful as we drove up to the front; the blue smoke from the chimneys going straight up in a long, thin line; not a rustle of breeze or movement anywhere. Perkins, my butler, came out to the steps to meet me, and successfully concealed his surprise at my return two days before I was expected.
"Any news, Perkins?" I inquired, as he helped me off with my coat.
"Nothing in any way special, sir," Perkins replied. "The cricket team from Romney Court were over here yesterday, sir, for the day."
"Gave "em a licking, I hope?" I remarked.
"We won by thirty runs, sir," Perkins informed me. "Johnson was bowling remarkably well, sir. He took seven wickets for fifteen!"
I nodded, and was pa.s.sing on to my study. Perkins followed me.
"We got your first telegram early this morning, sir!" he remarked.
I stopped short.
"What telegram?" I asked.
"The one telling us to prepare for the gentleman, sir," Perkins explained. "We had to guess at the train; but we sent the brougham in for the twelve o"clock, and Johnson waited. We"ve given him the south room, sir, and I think that he"s quite comfortable."
"What the devil are you talking about?" I asked.
It was Perkins" turn to stare, which he did for a moment blankly.
"The gentleman whose arrival you wired about, sir," he answered. "Mr.
Guest, I believe his name is."
"Mr. Guest is here now?" I asked.
"Certainly, sir! In the south room, sir! He asked to be told directly you arrived, sir!"
I turned abruptly towards the staircase. I said not another word to Perkins, but made my way to the room which he had spoken of. I knocked at the door, and it was Guest"s voice which bade me enter. It was Guest himself, who in a grey travelling suit, which made him look smaller and frailer than ever, lay stretched upon the sofa over by the great south windows!
CHAPTER X
"WORTLEY FOOTE--THE SPY"