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"I have so enjoyed our little talk about Eric," he said; "I quite look forward to meeting him some day." "Good-bye," said Mrs. Eggelby frostily; the supplementary remark which she made at the back of her throat was "I'll take care that you never shall!" Kenelm Jerton entered the dining-hall of the Golden Galleon Hotel in the full crush of the luncheon hour.
The stranger passed on his way, and before Jerton had had time to assimilate his information he found his whole attention centred on an angry-looking lady who was making loud and fretful-seeming inquiries of the hotel clerks. "Has any luggage been brought here from the station by mistake, a dress- basket and dressing-case, with the name Kestrel-Smith? It can't be traced anywhere.
And the Fair Unknown, having graciously pressed Jerton into the search for her lost identity, rose and left the room. As she passed the young man's table she halted for a moment and whispered: "Did you notice that I tipped the waiter a shilling? We can cross Lady Ulwight off the list; she would have died rather than do that."
Lady Knewford doesn't know one rose from another and she hates men, so she wouldn't have spoken to you in any case; and Lady Mousehilton flirts with every man she meets I haven't flirted with you, have I?" Jerton hastily gave the required assurance. "Well, you see," continued the lady, "that knocks four off the list at once."
In a minute or two, however, the important personage, the man who knew, came strolling back alone. Jerton summoned up all his courage and waylaid him. "I think I heard you say you knew the lady who went out of the hotel a few minutes ago, a tall lady, dressed in grey.
I had to take them; I don't see what else I could have done." Jerton said nothing, but he rather wondered what the lawful owner of the baggage would do. "Of course it was dreadful arriving at a strange hotel with the name of Kestrel-Smith, but it would have been worse to have arrived without luggage. Anyhow, I hate causing trouble."
"It'll be rather a lengthy process bringing the list down to one," said Jerton. "Oh, but, of course, there are heaps of them that I couldn't possibly be women who've got grandchildren or sons old enough to have celebrated their coming of age. I've only got to consider the ones about my own age.
His promenade carried him out of earshot at the critical moment when he was about to disclose the elusive identity. The Lady Who? Jerton could scarcely run after a total stranger, break into his conversation, and ask him for information concerning a chance passer-by. Besides, it was desirable that he should keep up the appearance of looking after the luggage.
"Only negative information. I'm not Lady Befnal. She disapproves dreadfully of any form of gambling, so when I recognised a well-known book maker in the hotel lobby I went and put a tenner on an unnamed filly by William the Third out of Mitrovitza for the three-fifteen race. I suppose the fact of the animal being nameless was what attracted me." "Did it win?" asked Jerton.
At five o'clock Jerton made his way to the hotel lounge; he had spent a diligent but fruitless quarter of an hour among the illustrated weeklies in the smoking-room. His new acquaintance was seated at a small tea-table, with a waiter hovering in attendance. "China tea or Indian?" she asked as Jerton came up. "China, please, and nothing to eat. Have you discovered anything?"
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