What I want is for you to make every effort to determine
whether she is in this house."
"We'll do it, Mr. Harleston," the manager acquiesced instantly. "Come
down to the office and we'll go over the guest diagram, while I have
every unoccupied room looked into. In fact, sir, we'll do anything short
of burglaring our guests."
"I'll be right down," Harleston said; "after I've bathed my face and
straightened up a bit."
The contusion on his cheek was not particularly noticeable; it might be
worse in the morning; his collar was a trifle crushed and his hair was
awry; on the whole, he had come out of the fight very well.
He took up his stick and gloves, put on his hat so as to shade, as far
as possible, the cheek-bone, and went down to the private office.
There was, of course, the chance that Mrs. Clephane had lured him into
the trap, and had herself written the decoy note; but he did not
believe her guilty. Even though Crenshaw had adroitly implicated her,
he was not influenced. Indeed, he was convinced of just the
reverse:--that she was honest and sincere and inexperienced, and that
she had told him the true story of the letter and its loss. At least he
was acting on that theory, and was prepared to see it through.
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