In Washington, four days later, Napier had cause to remember that dictum.
CHAPTER XXII
Napier arrived at the White House some minutes before the time set for his interview. Hardly had he embarked upon a little kill-time tour through the public rooms when he heard hurrying steps behind him, and turned to confront Nan Ellis.
Her greeting was the strangest, considering all things.
"How do you do? I wanted to know—oh, have you seen Greta?"
No, he hadn't, he could not forbear adding, Why should he?
"She was to meet me here." The girl turned and scanned the corridor, but in an excited, absent-mindedness as though her thoughts couldn't pretend to follow her eyes. "I expect they won't let her go. Her own Embassy is immensely polite to Greta. I never knew she had so many grand acquaintances." She broke off, and then added breathlessly, "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting to see—certain people. I don't need to ask what you are here for," he added.
Her eyelids winked as though he had flicked something in her face. "Oh,"—she considered a second,—"I suppose you do know more or less, since Julian made me talk before you. Do you know what I think?"