Reece looked a little crestfallen. Presently he brightened. "I'll tell you what we'll do," he announced. "I'll get hold of a couple more fellows and we'll go to a party."
"At this time of night?"
"Oh, it's early. There's Billy Brouke now. Hi, there, Billy! Say, I want you to meet Mr. Clayton, an old friend of mine from London. Mr. Clayton, this is Billy Brouke. How about a little party, Billy?"
"O.K. by me! We'll go in my car; it's parked around the corner."
On a side street near Franklin they climbed into a flashy roadster. Brouke drove west a few blocks on Franklin and then turned up a narrow street that wound into the hills.
Clayton was troubled. "Perhaps your friends may not be pleased if you bring a stranger," he suggested.
Reece laughed. "Don't worry," he admonished; "they'll be as glad to see you as they will be to see us."
That made Brouke laugh, too. "I'll say they will," he commented.
Presently they came to the end of the street. "Hell!" muttered Brouke and turned the car around. He turned into another street and followed that for a few blocks; then he turned back toward Franklin.
"Forgotten where your friends live?" asked Clayton.