The door opened after a discreet tap from the waiter and the lavish dinner which Craig had ordered appeared. The door stayed open for a moment as the bus boy carried in the dishes. A rustle of skirts and low musical laughter was wafted in to us and we caught a glimpse of another gay party passing down the hall.
"How many private dining-rooms are there?" asked Craig of the waiter.
"Just this one, sir, and the next one, which is smaller," replied the model waiter, with the air of one who could be blind and deaf and dumb if he chose.
"Oh, then we were lucky to get this."
"Yes, sir. It is really best to telephone first to Julius to make sure and have one of the rooms reserved, sir."
Craig made a mental note of the information. The party in the next room were hilariously ordering, mostly from the wine list. None of us had recognized any of them, nor had they paid much attention to us.
Craig had eaten little, although the food was very good.
"It's a shame to come here and not see the whole place," he remarked.
"I wonder if you would excuse me while I drop downstairs to look over
things there—perhaps ingratiate myself with that Titian? Tell Miss
Kendall about our visit to Langhorne's office while I am gone, Walter."
There was not much that I could tell except the bare facts, but I thought that Miss Kendall seemed especially interested in the broker's reticence about his stenographer.
I had scarcely finished when Craig returned. A glance at his face told me that even in this brief time something had happened.