"Ah, so there you are!... Claire, this is the Mr. Stillman that you have heard me speak of so often.... Does he come up to your hopes?"
Claire inclined her head gently.
"You forget.... I have seen Mr. Stillman before," she chided.
"Oh yes ... at the Ithaca. I had forgotten," Danilo replied as he waved his guest into a seat.
As for Stillman, he said nothing, but Danilo went on with vivacity:
"You see, my brother, it is as I told you—I shall not need a pistol."
"A pistol!" echoed Claire, in a nervous attempt to break the strain of Stillman's silence. "And what use could you have for a pistol, pray?"
"That was for the other man in the case," Stillman said, suddenly, looking up.
A quick flush overspread Danilo's face.
Claire did not know whether Stillman's tone was ironical or bitter, or just thoughtless. But as she turned to help herself to the olives which the waiter held out to her she had a feeling that the last door to the necessary understanding between herself and Danilo concerning Stillman had been suddenly closed.