“All right, Kama,” said Paget. “I’ll answer.”
He arose slowly and leisurely put on a pair of slippers. He yawned as he went into the living room, followed by the valet.
“He downstairs, sir,” informed Kama. “He say he wanee see you.”
“Hello,” drawled Paget, speaking in the house phone. A note of surprise entered his voice. “Oh, yes. I remember you. I met you at Marchand’s house the night the old man died. Come right up.”
Paget went back in the bedroom and put on a dressing gown. Another man, similarly attired, appeared in the hallway. The newcomer bore the tired look of a man who had awakened from a sleep disturbed by alcoholic memories.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“We’re up, Jerry,” replied Paget with a laugh. “And a detective’s coming up. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“A detective?”
“Yes. His name is Cardona. Something to do with the death of old Marchand.”
Kama answered the knock at the door. Cardona walked in. He nodded to Paget in a friendly manner.