“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington, Mrs. Calder has asked me not to put any calls through.”
“Would you tell her I called, please?” He gave the Connaught’s number.
“Of course, sir; good night.”
There was a sharp rap on his door, and he went to answer it. His dinner had arrived, and he didn’t feel like eating it.
39
STONE, HAVING LAIN AWAKE UNTIL the middle of the night, slept as if drugged. It was mid-morning before he woke up, and his first move was to call the embassy residence again and ask for Arrington. There was a long delay, then a woman came on the line.
“Stone?”
“Arrington, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Stone, it’s Barbara Wellington.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were Arrington. I’ve been trying to reach her; she wasn’t taking calls last night.”
“I know; she came home very hurt and angry last night; she said you had abandoned her in the middle of dinner at the Connaught. What happened?”
“Some people showed up that I absolutely had to see, and—”
“She also said that when she got up to go to the ladies’ she saw you kissing another woman in the Connaught lobby, so when you reach her, I don’t think you ought to try and pass that off as business.”
“It was business—not the woman—but three men I had to see, and—”
“And when she came back from the ladies’ you had disappeared, and the concierge said you had gone up to your suite with a guest.”
“With three guests—they insisted. You see—”
“Stone, it’s not I you have to convince, so save your strength.”
“May I speak to Arrington, please?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Barbara, please just tell her there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”
“Stone, Arrington has gone.”
“Gone where? Where can I reach her?”
“To New York; she left here about twenty minutes ago for Heathrow. I think she’ll be staying at the Carlyle. If I were you, I’d go after her, get the next plane.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that—”
“You’re going to have to resolve this face-to-face.”
“How long did you say she’d been gone?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“What airline?”
“British Airways.”
“Do you know the flight number?”