"—jumped on my hatches, and says we'll make it an international affair. That didn't—"
A passing wagon drowned the sound of his voice.
"He was telling her of his adventures!" cried Blix. "Splendid! Othello and Desdemona. They're getting on."
"Let's follow them!" exclaimed Condy.
"Should we? Wouldn't it be indiscreet?"
"No. We are the arbiters of their fate; we MUST take an interest."
They allowed their objects to get ahead some half a block and then fell in behind. There was little danger of their being detected. The captain and K. D. B. were absorbed in each other. She had even taken his arm.
"They make a fine-looking couple, really," said Blix. "Where do you suppose they are going? To another restaurant?"
But this was not the case. Blix and Condy followed them as far as Washington Square, where the Geodetic Survey stone stands, and the enormous flagstaff; and there in front of a commonplace little house, two doors above the Russian church with its minarets like inverted balloons K. D. B. and the captain halted. For a few moments they conversed in low tones at the gate, then said good-night, K. D. B. entering the house, the captain bowing with great deference, his hat in his hand. Then he turned about, glanced once or twice at the house, set his hat at an angle, and disappeared across the square, whistling a tune, his chin in the air.
"Very good, excellent, highly respectable," approved Blix; and Condy himself fetched a sigh of relief.