"That's beastly impolite on my part, don't you know," said De Royster to himself. "I must run around and see him. I've been so busy straightening out my accounts since I came back from my western trip, that I have neglected all my friends. However, I'll make up for it. I'll take him to some theatre and give him a good time."
Thus musing, Mortimer De Royster adjusted his one eye glass, selected a delicately-colored necktie from his rather large stock, and attired himself to go out and call at Roy's hotel, which he soon reached.
"Good evening, Mortimer," greeted the clerk, who knew De Royster quite well. "How are you?"
"Feeling very fit, old chap, don't you know," replied De Royster. "How are you?"
"So-so."
"That's good. Charming evening, isn't it? Charming. I—er—I called to see my friend, Mr. Bradner. Going to take him out and show him a bit of New York after dark, don't you know. I have tickets to a very nice show, and I think he'll like it. I owe a good deal to him, old man. He's a clever chap. I want to repay him in some way. I'll go up to his room."
"It's no use."
"No use. Why, my dear fellow, what do you mean?"
"I mean he was taken away—ill—in a cab by a friend of his."
"Who was the friend?"