And they laughed again.
Erna did not leave the Nielsen workshop until well after nine o’clock.
XI
It was the following Monday noon. Breen and Nielsen were seated at the last table in Landsmann’s rear dining room, eating and gossipping. “Gretchen!” called the former.
Erna’s successor came forward.
“Bring me a mocha tart, please.”
“Yes, sir”—and the girl walked away.
“So you think you’ll be able to finish your story?” Breen questioned.
“I think so,” was Nielsen’s thoughtful response. “I’ve found the missing link.”
“But is any story ever finished?” Breen protested. “Can’t you always find room for additional installments?”