The physician’s suspicion must have been reflected by Paget. The man arose and stretched his arms.
“Must be going,” he drawled. “Society affair tonight. Have to attend them, you know — good business.”
He extended his hand.
“Good-by, doctor,” he added. “May not see you for some time. Guess my business with Mister Marchand is now ended. If anything turns up, notify me.”
Doctor Lukens kept staring at the door through which Rodney Paget had gone. He heard the front door close downstairs. The physician turned to Willis.
“Take a night off,” ordered the physician. “You look pale and weak. It’s not yet nine o’clock. Go and see a movie.”
The secretary seemed to brighten at the suggestion as Lukens waved his hand toward the door.
“I’ll be in at eleven thirty,” promised Willis.
“All right,” laughed Lukens. “I guess Oscar will be back before that. You both like to go to bed early. Run along. I won’t lock the front door.”
Lukens was meditative after the secretary’s departure. He drummed upon the desk with his open hand, and the clatter of the scarab ring caught his attention. He snapped his fingers with a sudden idea.