"
"An old fellow?" Morriston asked.
"Oh, no. About six-and-thirty, I should say; eh, Hugh?"
"Under forty, certainly," Gifford answered.
"Tall and very dark, almost to swarthiness; of course I remember the
man."
Morriston exclaimed with sudden recollection. "I introduced him to
a partner."
"I noticed the fellow," observed Lord Painswick, who also was calling.
"Theatrical sort of chap. What has he done?"
Kelson laughed. "Simply disappeared, that's all."
"Disappeared!" There was a chorus of interest.
"How do you mean?" Morriston asked.
"Left the hotel at nine last night and has never turned up since," Kelson
said with an air of telling an amusing story. "Poor Host Dipper is taking
it quite tragically, notwithstanding the satisfactory point in the case
that the egregious Henshaw's elaborate kit still remains in his
unoccupied bedroom."
"Do you mean to say he never came back all night?" Miss Morriston asked.
"Never," Kelson assured her. "Old Dipper came to us, half asleep, at four
o'clock to ask whether he was justified in locking up the establishment."
"And nothing has been seen or heard of the man since," Gifford put in.
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