John Bruce strolled from the room, and descended to the lower floor. He entered the supper room, and while old Jake plied him with delicacies he saw the doorman emerge from the telephone booth out in the hall, hurry away, and presently return, talking earnestly with Monsieur Henri de Lavergne. The manager, in turn, entered the booth.
Monsieur Henri de Lavergne came into the supper room after a moment.
“In just a few minutes, Mr. Bruce—there will be a slight delay,” he said effusively. “Too bad to keep you waiting.”
“Not at all!” responded John Bruce. He held a wine glass up to the light. “This is very excellent, Monsieur de Lavergne.”
Monsieur Henri de Lavergne accepted the compliment with a gratified bow.
“Mr. Bruce is very kind to say so,” he said—and launched into an elaborate apology that Mr. Bruce should be put to any inconvenience to obtain the financial accommodation asked for. The security that Mr. Bruce offered was unquestioned. It was not that. It was the rule of the house. Mr. Bruce would understand.
Mr. Bruce understood perfectly.
“Quite so!” he said cordially.
Monsieur Henri de Lavergne excused himself, and left the room.
“A fishy, clever little crook,” confided John Bruce to himself. “I wonder what's the game?”