Page:Herbert Jenkins - The Rain Girl.djvu/82

 had been about as useful to him as a mastodon harnessed to a brougham. Possibly she had gone for another tramp, the Rain-Girl, not Aunt Caroline.

Possibly he sat up suddenly at the thought. She might be ill. He had got pneumonia, perhaps she had got it on the following day. Perhaps the symptoms took longer to manifest themselves in women than in men. How was he to find out? First, how was he to find out whether she were in the hotel or not? He could not very well go to the manager, or one of the clerks, give a description of her, and ask if she were staying there. They would in all probability look upon him with suspicion as an undesirable. It was all very tantalising and tormenting.

As the meal progressed, Beresford began to find a hundred reasons why the Rain-Girl had not been present at lunch, tea or dinner. She might be spending the day on the river, or motoring. Possibly she had been away for the week-end, and had not returned in time to come down to dinner. After all breakfast would prove whether or no she were in the hotel. People did not generally go out to breakfast, unless they happened to be friends of the Prime Minister. He would wait until breakfast. Yes, that burgundy was undoubtedly a good, sound wine, the second half-bottle seemed to be even better than the first.

That night Beresford slept soundly. In his dreams he covered what appeared to him to be the whole range of sub-conscious absurdity. Everything