‘Oh, I see.’ Floundering for a moment, the receptionist enquired: ‘But what, then, do you intend to do?’
‘I intend to confront him. To force him to marry my sister after all.’
‘You alone? Miss Bennet, that would be far too dangerous.’
‘I shall not be alone. There is a man - an old acquaintance of my father - who has promised to assist me. He cannot aid me in the search because he has his sick wife to take care of, but once I have found the miscreant, he has sworn he will come and place before the man the choice: to marry my sister or fight a duel to the death.’
The receptionist nodded solemnly.
‘Then all that remains for me to do, Miss Bennet, is to determine whether or not you are right in your suspicion that this man is staying with us.’
Wonderful! I couldn’t have put it better myself.
‘Indeed, Sir,’ I said, blinking up at him tearfully, ‘that would be most kind.’
Most kind indeed. Now get on with it before the onion stops working.
The receptionist went back behind the counter and picked up the big book in which all the guests signed their names. ‘If you would be so good as to tell me his name, Miss?’
‘His name is Mr Simmons. But I doubt he would have used his real name to sign into your book. He knows he is being sought and will probably make use of an alias.’
‘How clever of you!’ the receptionist exclaimed. ‘I would never have thought of that.’
That, I believed.
‘But then how will we find out if he is here?’ he asked.
‘I can give you his description,’ I offered. Finally we were getting to the interesting part. ‘My sister has told me exactly what he looks like. He has quite a distinctive appearance.’
‘Then please do.’ The receptionist nodded eagerly. ‘I see all the people who check into our hotel, and it is part of my job to have a good memory for faces. I will certainly be able to tell you whether he is here.’
‘Oh, I am so relieved.’ I put a trembling hand over my heart. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Sir. The man I am looking for is tall and gangly, with a long nose, long blonde hair and a thin moustache, and a scar over his right eyebrow.’
A curious expression spread over the receptionist’s face: a mixture of disappointment and relief.
‘Well, that is quite distinctive, Miss, and I can tell you right away that we have no one of that description living under our roof.’
‘Indeed?’ I began to back up. ‘Well… then I was wrong. Sorry for your trouble.’
‘Wait a minute, Miss. What will you…’
‘I suppose I will have to go look somewhere else now. Bye!’
And I was out of the door.
Outside Mr Ambrose awaited me, looking at his open watch and tapping his foot on the ground. His fingers were unconsciously tracing some pattern on the lid.
‘And?’ he asked as soon as he saw me.
‘He’s not here.’
‘How do you know that?’ he growled through clenched teeth.
I winked. ‘Let’s just say… by the use of feminine wiles.’
*~*~**~*~*
Twenty-five hotels later.
‘… I don't quite see. If you do not want the man brought before the law, what then do you intend to do?’ the receptionist asked, concern in his voice. Gosh, it really was amazing how similar male minds were.
‘I intend to confront him. To force him to marry my sister after all.’
‘All by yourself? Miss Bennet, that would be far too dangerous!’
Hey, he had actually said 'by yourself' instead of 'alone'! So men were capable of some variety after all!
‘I shall not be alone,’ I answered, sniffling. ‘There is a man - an old acquaintance of my father - who has promised to assist me. He cannot aid me in the search because he has his sick wife to take care of, but once I have found the miscreant, he has sworn he will come and place before the man the choice: to marry my sister or fight a duel to the death.’
The receptionist nodded solemnly.
‘Then all I can do is to find out whether or not you are right in supposing this man to be staying with us.’
‘Indeed, Sir,’ I said, blinking up at him tearfully, ‘that would be most kind.’
The receptionist went back behind the counter and picked up the big book in which all the guests signed their names. ‘If you would be so kind as to give me the man’s name, Miss?’
Yes, if you would be so kind as to do a handstand and a few pirouettes for me! God, can none of you ever say anything really different? Men! All the same!
‘His name is Mr Simmons. But I doubt he would have used his real name to sign into your book. He knows he is being sought and will probably make use of an alias.’