approaching their table, talking earnestly. The latter especially was
looking perplexed and anxious.

"It's the queerest thing I ever knew," Holderness pronounced. "We've
searched every hole and corner upstairs, and there isn't a sign of
Sandy."

"Have you tried the bar?" Lutchester inquired.

"Both the bar and the grillroom," Ferrani assured him.

"If he had been suddenly taken ill--" Molly murmured.

"But there is no place in which he could have been taken ill which we
have not searched," Ferrani reminded her.

"And besides," Holderness intervened, "Sandy was in the very pink of
health, and bubbling over with high-spirits."

"One noticed that," Lutchester remarked, a little drily.

"He might almost have been called garrulous," Pamela agreed.

Ferrani took grave leave of them, and Holderness seated himself at the
table.

"Well, let's get on with luncheon, anyway," he advised. "It's no good
bothering. The best thing we can do is to conclude that the impossible
has happened--that Sandy has met with some pals and will be here
presently."