He had slept very badly, and his eyes were stinging. He’d intended to try and doze for another hour, but it seemed like a waste of effort. “Yes?” he said to the phone, half expecting the caller to be Redvers. “Reception, Mr. Cross. A gentleman has left a package for you. It’s a Mr. Carlton, I think. He said you’d probably want it straight away, so I hope I haven’t disturbed you unnecessarily.” “No, that’s all right,” Dan said tiredly. “It’s about the size and shape of a stardropper, is it?” “I imagine so, sir,” the reception clerk said. “But it’s wrapped in brown paper.” Dan thought for a moment. The events of last evening had haunted him night-long, and he was aware of a need for ordinary human company. He said at length, “Okay, I’m planning to come down for breakfast in the lounge—I’ll pick the thing up on my way past. In about twenty minutes, I guess.” The reception clerk sounded embarrassed when he answered. “Ah—I sould advise against calling at the desk, sir.”
