"Is he gone?"
"Yes," Anthony sighed.
"Was he excited while he was here?"
"Not at all, apparently."
"Then he doesn't know yet that I've disappeared," Mary said calmly, returning to her place at the cleared table. "Isn't he a darling?"
"He is—a very charming fellow," Anthony muttered, thinking of the murderer's cross.
"Did your man take my coffee away?" Mary pursued.
Silently, Anthony rang for his servitor. Silently, Wilkins brought back pot and cup and the little plate of toast; and Mary, a very pleasing little figure indeed, sipped and munched and asked:
"Well, have you determined how I'm to leave?"
Anthony merely stared moodily at her at first. Johnson Boller, though, found his sense of humor overcoming him again. He gazed at Anthony, hair rumpled, eyes fogged with anxiety such as he rarely knew, and presently Johnson Boller was vibrating again. One merry little wheeze escaped and earned a glare from Anthony, another followed it—and after that Johnson Boller sat back and haw-hawed frankly until Anthony spoke.