The Case of the Missing Lady
The buzzer on Mr. Blunt’s desk—(International Detective Agency, Manager, Theodore Blunt)—uttered its warning call. Tommy and Tuppence both flew to their respective peepholes which commanded a view of the outer office. There it was Albert’s business to delay the prospective clients with various artistic devices.
“I will see, sir,” he was saying. “But I’m afraid Mr. Blunt is very busy just at present. He is engaged with Scotland Yard on the phone just now.”
“I’ll wait,” said the visitor. “I haven’t got a card with me, but my name is Gabriel Stavansson.”
The client was a magnificent specimen of manhood, standing over six feet high. His face was bronzed and weather beaten, and the extraordinary blue of his eyes made an almost startling contrast to the brown skin.
Tommy swiftly made up his mind. He put on his hat, picked up some gloves, and opened the door. He paused on the threshold.
“This gentleman is waiting to see you, Mr. Blunt,” said Albert.
A quick frown passed over Tommy’s face. He took out his watch.
“I am due at the Duke’s at a quarter to eleven,” he said. Then he looked keenly at the visitor. “I can give you a few minutes if you will come this way.”
The latter followed him obediently into the inner office where Tuppence was sitting demurely with pad and pencil.