“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”
“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I left and most probably will sleep for an hour or two yet, so there is time enough. I beg that you will first hear what I have to say. Then we can go out together.”
“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously, and the two walked along, Dangle making tentative essays in conversation, all of which were brought to nought by the uncompromising brevity of his companion’s responses.
“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled when at last they reached their goal. “These dratted servants are cleaning the public rooms.”
In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way to his apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair, stood himself with his back to the empty fireplace and remarked impatiently: “Well?”
Dangle laughed lightly.
“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne, and I suppose I can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get ahead without further delay. But, as I’ve a good deal to say, I should suggest you sit down, and if you don’t mind, I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given to me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would you mind if I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls? I’ve not breakfasted yet and I’m hungry.”
With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.
“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an attendant came to the door. “You will join me, won’t you? Even if my mission comes to nothing and we remain enemies, there’s no reason why we should make our interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”
Cheyne strode up and down the room.