During the brief, sickening moment of silence after the name had left his lips, Calderwell was conscious of a whimsical realization of the lights, music, and laughter all about him.
“Well, I chose as safe a place as I could!” he was thinking. Then Arkwright spoke.
“How long since you've been in correspondence with members of my family?”
“Eh?”
Arkwright laughed grimly.
“Perhaps you thought of it yourself, then—I'll admit you're capable of it,” he nodded, reaching for a cigar. “But it so happens you hit upon my family's favorite name for me.”
“Mary Jane! You mean they actually call you that?”
“Yes,” bowed the big fellow, calmly, as he struck a light. “Appropriate!—don't you think?”
Calderwell did not answer. He thought he could not.
“Well, silence gives consent, they say,” laughed the other. “Anyhow, you must have had some reason for calling me that.”