Читать книгу The Running Fight онлайн

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The butler knitted his brows.

"You were a fool to let her in! Is that her car outside?"

"Don't you know it when you see it?"

The mention of the car forced the butler's thoughts back to Ilingsworth. He started toward the financier of the Tri-State Company with abundant apology upon his lips.

"I beg your pardon, sir ..." he began, and then stopped. For as he passed the door of the reception-room he was able to peer into it, and by some servant's trick to sweep every corner of it with his glance. It was a room void of hangings, almost bare in its rich simplicity—one of those triumphs of interior decoration. The butler's face was pale as he retraced his steps and once more faced his fellow-servant.

"There's not a soul in there—see for yourself."

The other did see for himself, and he, too, looked bewildered.

"But I put her in there, and I put her there to stay. I didn't leave her for more than half a second. Where's she gone?"

Instantly the butler took charge of the situation, and in commanding sotto voce directed the other to look in the library, the music-room, the Louis XIV. room, even in the grand salon.