Van Teyl lit a cigarette.
"No use talking to me," he observed. "Pamela's her own mistress, and she's gone her own way ever since she came of age."
"She's got to quit," Fischer pronounced. "That's all there is about it.
You and I will have to talk this out. Where are you dining?"
"Downstairs," Van Teyl replied gloomily. "I was thinking of waiting for
Pamela."
"You leave word to have your people let you know directly she arrives,"
Fischer advised, "and come along with me."
Van Teyl allowed himself to be led towards the door. Nikasti, with a due sense of his new duties, glided past them, rang for the lift, and watched them descend. Fischer turned at once towards the dining room.
"Thank God we're in a civilised country," he observed, "and that I don't have to change when I don't want to!"
They found a quiet table, and Fischer, displaying much interest in the menu, ordered a somewhat extensive dinner.
"Grapefruit and Maryland chicken are worth coming back to," he declared. "Now see here, James, let's get to business. You've got to help me with your sister."
"But how?" Van Teyl demanded. "Pamela and I are good pals, of course, but she has a will of her own in all she does, and I don't fancy that anything I could say would influence her very much."