Doyle looked at his watch.
"Yes, you can. You'll get him up at his apartment on Riverside. And I'll give you odds you'll find the old night-owl playing bezique with his sister-in-law!"
That, in fact, was precisely what I found the man with the camera-eye doing. He sat there dealing out the cards, at one o'clock in the morning, with a face as mild and bland as a Venetian cardinal feeding his pigeons.
My host looked at the card in his fingers, looked at me, and then looked at the card again.
"She got you in trouble?" was his laconic query.
"I have never met the lady. But a friend of mine has, I'm sorry to say. And I want to do what I can to help him out."
"How much did he lose?"
"About thirty thousand dollars, he claims."
"What was the game?"
"It appears to have been one of those so-called wire-tapping coups."