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Updated: May 1, 2025
"He might almost have been called garrulous," Pamela agreed. Ferrani took grave leave of them, and Holderness seated himself at the table. "Well, let's get on with luncheon, anyway," he advised. "It's no good bothering. The best thing we can do is to conclude that the impossible has happened that Sandy has met with some pals and will be here presently."
Ferrani, seeing them still waiting, approached with a little bow. "Your friend," he asked, "he has not arrived, eh?" "No sign of him," Holderness replied gloomily. "What about his hat and coat?" Ferrani inquired, with a sudden inspiration. "Great idea," Holderness assented, turning towards the cloakroom attendant. "Don't you remember my friend, James?" he went on.
"On the contrary," she said drily, "Mr. Fischer represents a type of my countrymen of whom I am not very fond. He is a great patron of yours, is he not?" "He is a large shareholder in the company," Ferrani confessed. "Then your restaurant will prosper," she told him. "Mr. Fischer has the name of being very fortunate.... That was a wonderful luncheon you gave us to-day." "Madame is very kind."
"More, perhaps, than you would think, madam," he declared. "He knows how to make a bargain, believe me. It cost us more than I would like to tell you to get these fellows here." Pamela looked him in the eyes. "Be careful, Monsieur Ferrani," she advised, "that it does not cost you more to get rid of them."
"Entirely, madam," Ferrani assented. "They are real Southern darkies, from Joseph, the leader, down to little Peter, who blows the motor-horn." Pamela's interest in the matter remained unabated. "I tell you it makes one feel almost homesick to hear them play," she went on, with a little sigh. "Did they come direct from the States?" Ferrani shook his head. "From Paris, madam.
Pamela thanked him and stood up. "Now that I have done as you asked me," Ferrani concluded, "let me add a word. Both these men are already off duty and have left the restaurant. If you wish to communicate with either of them, I advise you to do so by letter." "You are a very courteous gentleman, Mr. Ferrani," Pamela declared, dropping him a little mock curtsey, "and good morning!"
"Both the bar and the grillroom," Ferrani assured him. "If he had been suddenly taken ill " Molly murmured. "But there is no place in which he could have been taken ill which we have not searched," Ferrani reminded her. "And besides," Holderness intervened, "Sandy was in the very pink of health, and bubbling over with high-spirits." "One noticed that," Lutchester remarked, a little drily.
"Hassan lodges at a shop eighty yards away. The name is Haines, and there are newspaper placards outside the door." "That is quite enough," Pamela murmured. "As for Monsieur Joseph," Ferrani continued, "that is a different matter. He has, I understand, a small flat in Tower Mansions, Tower Street, leading off the Edgware Road. The number is 18C. So!" He wrote it down and passed it to her.
"Will you do me a favour?" Ferrani's gesture was all-expressive. Words were entirely superfluous. "I want two addresses, please. First, the address of Joseph, your head musician, and, secondly, the address of Hassan, your coffee-maker." Ferrani effectually concealed any surprise he might have felt. He tore a page from his pocket-book. "Both I know," he declared.
The restaurant was crowded, and the coloured band, from the space against the wall on their left, was playing a lively one-step. Ferrani was buttonholed by an important client as they crossed the threshold, and they lingered for a moment, waiting for his guidance. Whilst they stood there, a curious thing happened.
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