Each outdoor cage had a barred door, out of reach across a low picket fence. The doors were fastened with formidable padlocks and evidently the handsome leopard rated high among the animals because his cage had a shiny new padlock. The leopard looked at Phil when Phil looked at it and then the leopard yawned.
Only it wasn’t just a yawn; the leopard gave a low growl. In leopard language it was saying that it didn’t like something and since Phil was about the only thing in sight, he was probably what the leopard didn’t like.
So Phil proceeded to the Plaza Central.
Just inside the door of that lavish hostelry, Phil was greeted by a peculiar gasp that reminded him a trifle of the leopard’s expression of annoyance. Again, Phil was the object, but this time the annoyed party was a girl.
And the girl was Arlene Forster.
“Good evening,” announced Phil, politely; “and what have I done to be rebuffed?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” returned Arlene. “I have an appointment. Good-bye.”
“Since you’re going my way” - Phil supplied this as Arlene went out the door and turned along the street - “you won’t be sparing any precious minutes if you give me the particulars.”
“All right, then.” Arlene tossed her blonde head haughtily. “I just don’t like your persuasive way. That business of arguing me into taking a carriage ride around Central Park, for instance.”
“But I didn’t persuade you!”