I sat on a gilt and satin chair. The doorman went back to his door. More members arrived. I watched them sign the book on a side table. The moment I was alone I jumped up and went over to the book. I started to turn back the pages. De Mauxville had been killed last Friday, so I would need dates before that. . . . I hadn’t expected so many attendees each night. I was astounded at how many people had a suitable income to gamble here. But I spotted one name I recognized: Roderick Featherstonehaugh had been here on several occasions. And then another name I hadn’t expected to see: the Hon. Darcy O’Mara had been here too.

Two men strolled past me, both smoking cigars. “I lost ten grand the other night,” one said in an American accent, “but if the oil keeps on pumping, who’s complaining?” and they both laughed.

My heart was beating so loudly I felt as if it must be reverberating around that foyer.

“I’m sorry, miss.” I jumped at the voice close behind me. The dark little man had come back. “But your cousin doesn’t appear to be here. I have just checked the salle prive. Are you sure you have the correct date?”

“Oh, dear, maybe I’ve made a mistake,” I said. “Was he here last night?”

He turned back the pages, allowing me to peek over his shoulder. “Not last night, or the night before. It doesn’t appear that he has been here at all this week. Not since last Saturday.”

“Last Saturday?” The words blurted out.

He nodded. So it appeared that Primrose Asquey d’Asquey, now Roly Poley, had been honeymooning alone, at least for part of the time. No wonder her mother felt that she needed cheering up.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t help you.” The little man was now ushering me toward the front door. “If he does come in later, whom shall I say was waiting for him?”

I tried to come up with a name, then I had a brain wave and produced a card. “Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said.

His expression changed to one of hostility and suspicion. “Is this some kind of schoolgirl prank?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“That you are most certainly not Miss Warburton-Stoke. That young lady is well known to us here. Good night to you.”

I was deposited outside with my cheeks burning. Why hadn’t Belinda mentioned that she frequented Crockford’s? How could she afford to frequent Crockford’s? And what else had she neglected to tell me?

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Rannoch House
Thursday, May 5, 1932