"I get you!" said Kaire. "There is not to be any fuss."
"You get me perfectly," bowed Bretton. "Now for the—the discussion." Quite casually he walked over to the mahogany table, sat down, took a single interested glance at the blue prints and swept them all aside. "Let's all be seated," he said.
Very reluctantly Daphne came forward into the light and slid down into the chair opposite him.
"I—I look so funny," she deplored.
"You certainly do," said her father. "Yet I would be willing to wager," he smiled quite unexpectedly, "that of all the variant ladies who have been entertained in this room there has never 198 been a lovelier one or—one more tempting."
"Sir?" bridled Kaire. With the dark flush rising once again to his cheek-bones he sprang forward to the table and perched himself on the edge of it with a sinister sort of nonchalance. "Sir?" he repeated threateningly.
"Oh, don't concern yourself for a moment with my daughter's tender sensibilities," begged Bretton. "Their conservation—you must understand—is still in my hands."
Somberly for a moment each man concerned himself with the lighting of a fresh cigarette.
Then Bretton jerked back his chair.
"Just what was your plan, Kaire?" he asked.