They walked out to the car almost in silence. A new spirit seemed to have come to Kessner. He looked and talked differently throughout the rest of the evening's entertainment. He seemed somehow to have lost his air of half bantering confidence. When the time came for farewells, he looked long and earnestly into Lavendale's face.
'We must know one another better, young man,' was all he said....
On their way back to her rooms, Suzanne gripped Lavendale by the arm and asked him a question.
'What does it all mean?' she demanded. 'Why did you guess Niko? Why were they both so thunderstruck?'
'Because,' he replied, 'Niko happened to be the writer of that little epistle.'
Her large eyes gleamed at him through the semi-darkness, filled with wonder.
'But how could you possibly know that?'
He smiled.
'It is your responsibility,' he explained. 'I noticed the perfume directly he drew the note from the envelope.'
She laughed softly—softly at first and then heartily.