“Come,” he said, “you shall stand me a drink. Two whiskies and sodas, Tim. And now, Mr. Leonard Tavernake, you are going to answer me a question.”
“Am I?” Tavernake muttered.
“You came down in the lift with Mrs. Wenham Gardner half an hour ago, you went into the restaurant and ordered supper. She is there still and you are here. Have you quarreled?”
“No, we did not quarrel,” Tavernake answered. “She explained that she was supping in the cafe only for the sake of meeting one man. She wanted an escort. I filled that post until the man came.”
“He is there now?” Pritchard asked.
“He is there now,” Tavernake assented.
Pritchard withdrew the cigar from his mouth and watched it for a moment.
“Say, Tavernake,” he went on, “is that man who is now having supper with Mrs. Wenham Gardner the man whom she expected?”
“I imagine so,” Tavernake replied.
“Didn't she seem in any way scared or disturbed when he first turned up?”