65 
Revised Plans
The telegram delivered shortly after daybreak at Nr. 42 Ebendorfer Strasse in Vienna was brief. It aroused a wrathful response as Hartwell Barclay read it. He then shoved it across the breakfast table to Amanda’s purported mother-in-law. She read it somewhat more calmly than her white-haired and red-faced companion.
ZURICH. SHE IS GONE. WAS CLOSE IN SWITZERLAND BUT ABSOLUTE DEAD END. SUSPECT FRANCE, THEN ENGLAND. WILL AWAIT REPLY HERE. R. HALIFAX.
The reply sent back by the waiting delivery to the Zurich hotel was equally terse.
MEET ME PARIS. L’ATELIER DES PRéS. WILL USE NETWORK TO GO TO ENGLAND. SHE MUST BE STOPPED. BARCLAY.
Ramsay set down the single sheet of paper. He could almost feel Barclay’s annoyance in the very abruptness of the communication. But for once their mutual animosity had played right into his own hands.
Paris—the very sound of the word was music to his ears!
His last conversation with Adriane a week ago was from Paris, where she still had another three weeks to play at the theater!
Wherever had that lunatic Scarlino disappeared to?
Not that Ramsay cared.
He hoped he never saw him again. He was a bad one. Barclay and his imbecilic contacts—the fellow had proved less than useless at finding Amanda and now had suddenly disappeared without a trace.
Well, good riddance. He wasn’t about to hang around waiting for him to show up again.