"At Cagliacci's?"
"Precisely. Dining upon the best of spaghetti and the richest of wines, and paying for it at the point of a stiletto."
"But—ha! You are talking nonsense. We could not find them; they could not find us."
"We might telephone and try," suggested Owen. "Cagliacci, you know, is now up-to-date. He has a telephone. He considers it a sign of respectability."
"And then what do you propose?"
"Picquot—I mean Signor Baskinelli, I propose nothing. Unless possibly there might be—after the reception—a little motor trip to Chinatown. It might amuse the ladies."
"You are right. I will invite them all," said Baskinelli.
"And how about calling up Marie at Cagliacci's just as an old friend?"
"It might be best."
They moved together down the corridor and Owen directed their way to a little study secluded from all other apartments of the great house.