At five o'clock Jerton made his way to the hotel lounge; he had spent a diligent but fruitless quarter of an hour among the illustrated weeklies in the smoking- room. His new acquaintance was seated at a small tea- table, with a waiter hovering in attendance.
"China tea or Indian?" she asked as Jerton came up.
"China, please, and nothing to eat. Have you discovered anything?"
"Only negative information. I'm not Lady Befnal. She disapproves dreadfully of any form of gambling, so when I recognised a well-known book maker in the hotel lobby I went and put a tenner on an unnamed filly by William the Third out of Mitrovitza for the three-fifteen race. I suppose the fact of the animal being nameless was what attracted me."
Did it win?" asked Jerton.
"No, came in fourth, the most irritating thing a horse can do when you've backed it win or place. Anyhow, I know now that I'm not Lady Befnal."
"It seems to me that the knowledge was rather dearly bought," commented Jerton.
"Well, yes, it has rather cleared me out," admitted the identity-seeker; "a florin is about all I've got left on me. The lobster Newburg made my lunch rather an expensive one, and, of course, I had to tip that boy for what he did to the Kestrel-Smith locks. I've got rather a useful idea, though. I feel certain that I belong to the Pivot Club; I'll go back to town and ask the hall porter there if there are any letters for me. He knows all the members by sight, and if there are any letters or telephone messages waiting for me of course that will solve the problem. If he says there aren't any I shall say: 'You know who I am, don't you?' so I'll find out anyway."
The plan seemed a sound one; a difficulty in its execution suggested itself to Jerton.
