If you'd done this a year ago there might have been some use in it.'
'That's his number all right,' said Colonel Julyan,
'0488, and the name Baker beside it.
Why didn't she put the exchange?'
'Try every exchange in London,' jeered Favell.
'It will take you through the night but we don't mind.
Max doesn't care if his telephone bill is a hundred pounds, do you, Max?
You want to play for time, and so should I, if I were in your shoes.'
'There is a mark beside the number but it might mean anything,' said Colonel Julyan; 'take a look at it, Mrs Danvers.
Could it possibly be an M?'
Mrs Danvers took the diary in her hands again.
'It might be,' she said doubtfully.
'It's not like her usual M but she may have scribbled it in a hurry.
Yes, it might be M.'
'Mayfair 0488,' said Favell; 'what a genius, what a brain!'
'Well?' said Maxim, lighting his first cigarette, 'something had better be done about it.
Frank? Go through and ask the exchange for Mayfair 0488.'
The nagging pain was strong beneath my heart.
I stood quite still, my hands by my side.
Maxim did not look at me.
'Go on, Frank,' he said.
'What are you waiting for?'
Frank went through to the little room beyond.
We waited while he called the exchange.
In a moment he was back again.
"They're going to ring me,' he said quietly.
Colonel Julyan clasped his hands behind his back and began walking up and down the room.
No one said anything.
After about four minutes the telephone rang shrill and insistent, that irritating, monotonous note of a long-distance call.
Frank went through to answer it.
'Is that Mayfair 0488?' he said.
'Can you tell me if anyone of the name of Baker lives there?
Oh, I see.
I'm so sorry.
Yes, I must have got the wrong number.
Thank you very much.'
The little click as he replaced the receiver.
Then he came back into the room.
'Someone called Lady Eastleigh lives at Mayfair 0488. It's an address in Grosvenor Street.
They've never heard of Baker.'
Favell gave a great cackle of laughter.
"The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, they all jumped out of a rotten potato,' he said.
'Carry on, detective Number One, what's the next exchange on the list?'
'Try Museum,' said Mrs Danvers.
Frank glanced at Maxim.
'Go ahead,' said Maxim.
The farce was repeated all over again.
Colonel Julyan repeated his walk up and down the room.
Another five minutes went by, and the telephone rang again. Frank went to answer it.
He left the door wide open, I could see him lean down to the table where the telephone stood, and bend to the mouth-piece.