impatience in hand until Cordovez came hurrying back to the car.
'The room is empty/' he said as he stepped on the starter. c Those at the desk do not recall seeing him recently. . . . You wish to go to Grayson's first, or to the Miranda home?'
'Which is closer?'
'There is little difference/'
'Then let's try Grayson's.'
Diana Grayson eyed her visitors with some surprise, but her company manners were excellent. She invited them in
and listened politely to what Jeff had to say. Then she shook her head.
'Why no/' she said. 'I haven't seen Miss Holmes since the other morning/*
Jeff's glance had been inspecting the room and the lawn and the hallway as she spoke, and then, because he knew how easy it would be to lie about such a thing, he said:
'Do you mind if we look around?'
He watched the brows arch and the quick resentment flicker in her eyes. He thought she was going to refuse, but she laughed and spread one hand, palm up.
'Help yourself/* she said coldly. 'You don't mind if I pass up the tour, do you?'
Jeff was in no mood to resent the snub and when she sat down on the divan and opened a magazine, he started off, not sure where he was going but determined to inspect every room and every closet. With Cordovez's help it did not take long. The maid in the kitchen gave them no more than a curious glance, but Cordovez stopped long enough to converse with her briefly.
He caught up with Jeff in the first bedroom, checked the bath, went on to the second bedroom and bath. A corridor which angled from the main hall led down two steps to the small wing which Dudley Fiske occupied, a large bedroom complete with television, a bath, and a separate entrance.
Certain now that no one was concealed here, Jeff led the way out the door and continued on to the garage. A late-model hardtop occupied one half of the space, but there was nothing else, and now he went back to the house and asked about Dudley Fiske.
'He went out to get some liquor.' Diana Grayson smiled at Jeff and her sarcasm was softly cadenced. 'He should be back any minute if you'd care to wait.'
When Jeff hesitated, Cordovez touched his arm and a jerk of his head conveyed the idea that it was time to leave. When they went back to the car, he explained why.
'I spoke to the maid/' he said. 'The girl has not been here.' He drove down the hill and turned into an avenue which took them toward the Caracas Country Club. 'Also/* he said, 'I took time at the Tucan to telephone Miranda's office. He has not been there since noon/*
He drove silently then until he came to a district where houses became more expensive-looking and the surrounding lawns were wider. Mostly the architecture was traditional rather than modern and as they approached an impressive white-stucco house on the right, he stopped the car.
'Permit me to make a suggestion/' he said. a l share your anxiety for Miss Holmes, but I think it would be wise to use caution here.'
Jefi looked at him, not understanding what he meant and, in his particular frame of mind, not exactly caring. He had had enough of caution. What he wanted was action and he said so,
'I understand,' Cordovez said. 'Still I do not think it will be easy to search this house if Luis Miranda is home. In fact he will not permit it. As a matter of pride he would resist. Also, there is a simpler way to get the information you desire/*
JName it'
*I will go to the rear and speak to the servants. They have respect for authority. When they see I am a detective they will tell me what I want to know. Believe me, the girl could not be in this house without their knowledge,* 7
Sentenced again to inaction because he could not argue with such commendable reasoning, Jeff stayed in the car. He saw the little man edge round the corner post of the driveway gate and disappear into the dusk which had
been moving down the surrounding hillsides. Once, he looked at his watch. Ten minutes of seven. And if Karen was not here, where was she? What could he do next?
Five minutes passed, and somewhere in the distance a bell tolled softly. The darkness came swiftly then and it was darkest of all in his heart because it seemed now that this was his fault. If he had given himself up and told his story yesterday afternoon this could never have happened; there would have been no need for Karen's help, no reason for her to take chances.
Again he glanced at his watch while the torment grew inside his head and he tried to think, to remember details, to look ahead and' decide what could be done next. From out of the vortex of those thoughts he recalled the riding crop and the metal ferrule and now, focusing for that instant on Luis Miranda, he understood that there could still be one more place the girl might have been taken. It would be a remote chance, but the possibility existed, and possibilities were all he had left.
Cordovez opened the car door before Jeff knew he was there. 'She has not been there,' he said. 'Nor has Luis Miranda. He left this morning and has not yet returned.'
'All right,' Jeff said. 'Let's travel. Do you know Ma-cuto?'
'Of course.'
'Miranda has a beach cottage there. Do you know where it is? Could you find it in the dark?'
'I think so.' Cordovez got the car under way and leaned back. When he spoke there was a note of incredulity in his voice. 'You believe it is possible—'
'I don't believe anything any more/' Jeff cut in. 'But we have to go to the airport, don't we? And Macuto's out in that direction, isn't it?'
'Yes. The next little town to La Guaira.'
'So let's have a look.'
'It can do no harm/' Cordovez said and settled down to the job of driving.
20
JEFF LANE remembered very little of the ride to Macuto. Because he was afraid to hope too much he tried not to think at all and stared sightlessly out the windshield as they sped along the toll road to the coast.
The lights at Maiquetia roused him and he heard the thunder of some plane on its take-off run. Then they were going along the waterfront at La Guaira with its stores on one side and the docks on the other. A cruise ship, every porthole alight, lay alongside a modern warehouse, and the dimly lit hulks of two freighters stood silhouetted against the sky. Then the lights were gone again and they went along quiet, tree-lined streets, sometimes following the coast and sometimes farther inland.
The sea was always on his left and presently they were cutting through a narrow plain. Here and there he could see an apartment house, while on the right pale blurs on the landscape spoke of sand traps and a golf course. Jeff spoke of this and Cordovez nodded.
'Caraballeda Yacht and Golf Club,' he said. 'Soon we will be there.'
Luis Miranda's beach house sat on a slope which faced the sea, its veranda suspended on cantilevers and the rear half snug against the ground. Its design was modem and its light color made the outlines distinct, but to Jeff it had
only an empty look that served to depress still more his already flagging spirit.
A drive led to a basement garage. As he followed Cor-dovez over the traprock surface he offered a silent prayer; for he had run out of ideas and there was nothing left for him to do. He repeated it as the beam of the detective's flashlight sprayed the drive and then he stopped as Cor-dovez bent down to examine the surface more closely.
'A car may have been here recently/' he said and then cut across the grassy slope to a door protected by a metal grill.
Another look with the light showed this to be chain-locked, and now they continued along the front and up the grassy slope toward the rear. Two of the windows on this side could be reached from the ground. Both had similar metal grills to guard the glass, but when Cordovez examined the second one with his flash he whistled softly and the oath that followed was tinged with excitement.
