he had beenguilty.
"You telephone, to the Semiramis, of course?" said Hanaud cheerfully.
Calladine grew red.
"Yes," he stammered.
"Yet I did not hear that volume of 'Hallos' which precedes telephonicconnection in your country of leisure," Hanaud continued.
"I telephoned from my bedroom. You would not hear anything in thisroom."
"Yes, yes; the walls of these old houses are solid." Hanaud wasplaying with his victim. "And when may we expect Miss Carew?"
"I can't say," replied Calladine. "It's very strange. She is not inthe hotel. I am afraid that she has gone away, fled."
Mr. Ricardo and Hanaud exchanged a look. They were both satisfied now.There was no word of truth in Calladine's story.
"Then there is no reason for us to wait," said Hanaud. "I shall havemy holiday after all." And while he was yet speaking the voice of anewsboy calling out the first edition of an evening paper becamedistantly audible. Hanaud broke off his farewell. For a moment helistened, with his head bent. Then the voice was heard again,confused, indistinct; Hanaud picked up his hat and cane and, withoutanother word to Calladine, raced down the stairs. Mr. Ricardo followedhim, but when he reached the pavement, Hanaud was half down the littlestreet. At the corner, however, he stopped, and Ricardo joined him,coughing and out of breath.
"What's the matter?" he gasped.
"Listen," said Hanaud.
At the bottom of Duke Street, by Charing Cross Station, the newsboywas shouting his wares. Both men listened, and now the words came tothem mispronounced but decipherable.
"Mysterious crime at the Semiramis Hotel."
Ricardo stared at his companion.
"You were wrong then!" he cried. "Calladine's story was true."
For once in a way Hanaud was quite disconcerted.
"I don't know yet," he said. "We will buy a paper."
But before he could move a step a taxi-cab turned into the Adelphifrom the Strand, and wheeling in front of their faces, stopped atCalladine's door. From the cab a girl descended.
"Let us go back," said Hanaud.