“Neither did I,” Stone said, getting out of the car. He took the photograph of Morgan from his pocket and showed it to Dino. “This is our guy.” Morgan was late fifties, heavyset, balding, with graying hair and a military mustache.

“I’ll bet he shaved before he left the house,” Dino said.

They walked into the building, into an enormous living room, ornately decorated.

“Wow,” Dino said under his breath. “This Astor guy knew how to live, didn’t he?”

They approached the reception desk. “Show them your badge,” Stone whispered.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” the young woman behind the desk asked.

Dino flashed his badge. “We’re looking for a man,” he said.

Stone handed her the photograph. “His name is Morgan, although he may be using an alias. It’s possible he’s shaved his mustache, too.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Sir William Mallory, and no mustache; he booked in a week or so ago, sent a cash deposit, checked in half an hour ago.”

“Where can we find him?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” the young woman said.

“What’s his room number?”

“He didn’t check all the way in,” she replied.

“Pardon?”

“He came to the desk; a porter brought his luggage; he registered, then he left. He seemed very nervous; he was sweating, I remember.”

“Did he show you any kind of identification?”

“Yes; he didn’t want to use a credit card, insisted on paying cash in advance, so I asked him for identification. He showed me a British passport.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He said he’d forgotten something at his London house; he’d have to go back for it.”

“How was he dressed?”

“A raincoat and a trilby hat, which I thought was odd, since the weather is so nice at the moment.”

“How much luggage did he have?”

“Two large cases and a sort of canvas bag.”

“Describe the canvas bag, please.”

“A kind of satchel, roomy, like a Gladstone. The porter told me after he’d gone that he’d insisted on carrying it himself.”

“Where would I find the porter?”

The young woman raised a finger and beckoned a man in a uniform. “These gentlemen have some questions about Sir William Mallory,” she said.

“Yes, sir?” the porter said.

“How did he arrive?”

“By car, sir.”

“What kind of car?”

“A Jaguar from the sixties—dark blue—quite beautifully restored, inside and out. His luggage was fitted to the boot, except for the valise.”

“Did you, by any chance, take note of the number plate?”

“It was a vanity plate, sir; B-R-A-I-N.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Back to London; he said he’d forgotten something important.”

“Thank you very much,” Stone said. He and Dino went back to their car.

“Good call, Stone,” Dino said, “but now we’re going to have to get Carpenter’s people on the case; he could be anywhere.”

Stone dialed Carpenter’s cellphone.