"I can't explain it any better than you can," groaned Bill. "I tried to, yesterday, and flivvered."
There was half a minute of silence, conversation having ended in a cul de sac. Both turned toward the door with a breath of relief when it opened softly, after a premonitory knock. Pete Stearns stood on the threshold.
He glanced not at all at Bill; his eyes were for Mary alone.
"Well?" demanded Bill.
"I thought, sir," said Pete, still watching Mary, "that unless you were in a hurry about your clothes——"
Bill cut him short with a gesture.
"I am in a hurry," he snapped, glaring at his valet. "What's more, I do not wish to be interrupted when I am busy with my secretary."
Pete's eyebrows went up nearly an inch. The news was staggering—but it solved a mystery. Unmistakable hints of a smile lurked on his lips. Then he bowed deeply—at Mary.
"Very good, sir," he said, and closed the door.