"Hush!" Zizi warned him, "don't speak above a whisper. Are you a burglar?"
Peter shook his head, unable to repress a smile, and his smile made the same impression on Zizi that it had always made on everybody,—that of absolute pleasure.
"Who are you?" she asked, scarce breathing the words.
"John Harrison," he returned, still smiling. "I'll go now, please."
"Without further explanation?"
"Yes, please."
"All right, I'll let you out. I know all about you. You sent a chap here to interview Mr. Crane,—and you're getting follow-up literature."
"Right! Good night."
And with a swiftness and silence born of the dire necessity of the moment, Peter went to the front door, out of it and down the street in record time.
He turned the first corner, and walked rapidly many blocks, before turning to see if he were followed.