CHAPTER VII
GRIGGS GETS AN ORDER
At eight o'clock Laurie found Doris sitting under the shade of a reading-lamp in her studio, deep in the pages of a sophisticated French novel and radiating an almost oppressive atmosphere of well-being.
Subconsciously, he resented this. His mood was keyed to tragedy. But he returned her half-serious, half-mocking smile with one as enigmatic, shook hands with grave formality, and surveyed with mild interest a modest heap of bank-notes of small denominations that lay on the table, catching the room's high lights. Following his glance, Doris nodded complacently.
"I left them there for you to see," she remarked.
"Did the kind gentleman under the three balls give you all that?"
"He did. Count it."
Laurie frowned.
"Don't be so arrogant about your wealth. It's fleeting. Any copy-book will tell you so."
She opened a small drawer in the table, swept the bills into it, and casually closed it. Laurie stared.