Something was wrong! Some part of the machine, of the dimly divined
machine whereof he formed a cog, was out of gear. Since the very nature
of this machine--its construction and purpose, alike--was unknown to
Soames, he had no basis upon which to erect surmises for good or ill.
His timid inquiries into the identity of East 18642 had begun and
terminated with his labored perusal of the telephone book, a profitless
task which had occupied him for the greater part of an evening.
The name, Gianapolis, did not appear at all; whereas there proved to be
some two hundred and ninety Kings. But, oddly, only four of these
were on the Eastern Exchange; one was a veterinary surgeon; one a
boat-builder; and a third a teacher of dancing. The fourth, an engineer,
seemed a "possible" to Soames, although his published number was not
18642; but a brief--a very brief--conversation, convinced the butler
that this was not his man.
He had been away from the flat for over an hour, and he doubted if even
the lax sense of discipline possessed by Mr. Leroux would enable that
gentleman to overlook this irregularity. Soames had a key of the outer
door, and he built his hopes upon the possibility that Leroux had not
noticed his absence and would not hear his return.
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