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“Say you can’t find me,” he said, “and ask her to leave a message.”

The boy did so.

A voice, which was anything but gentle, replied:

“All right, I’ll come round.”

Virgil blenched.

“Say I’m not living here, and you don’t know my address.”

“Then why you ask me to leave a message,” flashed Miss Townshend.

“Er—on the chance,” stammered the page.

“Well, ’ere it is—on the chance,” said Jane. “I’ll be round in ’alf an hour.”

The receiver was slammed into place.

Virgil and the page stared at one another in dismay.

Then the former said an extremely unpleasant word under his breath and erupted violently from the box...

Miss Vulliamy greeted him with a cold smile.

“Get on all right?” she said acidly.

“We must leave at once,” said Virgil. “Go on to the Berkeley, or my rooms, or somewhere. We can’t stay here. She says she’s coming at once—may be here any moment.”

“Then why go?” said Sarah.

“Well, we can’t be here when she comes. You don’t want a scene, do you? Screams and yells in the hall, and all that sort of thing?” He mopped the sweat from his face. “It’s all that blinking letter you made me write,” he added savagely. “I might have known——”