“Go ahead,” said Rollison.

“Thanks.” M.M.M. rose, with that practised nimbleness, and went to the desk and picked up the telephone. It was a large desk, of panelled walnut, and just now very little was on it. Rollison went out of the room as M.M.M. was giving the number, and found Jolly coming from the kitchen,

“It’s a nice afternoon, so I’m going for a drive,” announced Rollison. “Why don’t you go and disport yourself in Hyde Park or the Tower?” As he spoke he raised a warning finger, and then lifted an extension telephone which was just outside the kitchen door. “I’d like to make sure he doesn’t pull a fast one.”

Jolly gave a discreet little smile, and watched him.

Rollison heard the ringing sound, and M.M.M. cough; then he heard the ringing sound stop, and a girl say in an unexpectedly breathless voice :

“Alan, is that you?”

“Someone far, far better than your brother Alan,” said M.M.M. “This is Masterful Master Montagu Mont “

“Monty, don’t fool,” said the girl, still rather breathless; yet she had a most attractive voice. “Alan’s missing.”

“Alan’s what?”

“Missing. I haven’t seen him since last night. He was up when I got up this morning, I didn’t see him go out of the cottage. I thought he’d be back for breakfast, but there’s no sign of him, and now it’s half-past eleven. I can’t believe that he’d go off without a word, something’s happened to him. What do you think I ought to do ?”

2

TWO CLIENTS

As she spoke into the telephone, Gillian Selby was looking out of the window. She could see the narrow road which served the cottage, the farm and two other nearby houses, and in the distance the telegraph poles which marked the main road.