“Charming of you, indeed,” declared Dawley, helping himself to a cigarette and lighting it.
“Look out the tobacco doesn’t make you sick, babe,” muttered Hank Butts under his breath.
“Now, my dear Dalton, about the business we were discussing here last evening––” began the soft-voiced one, but the other broke in on him with:
“If you don’t mind, Dawley, I want to think a bit now.”
“Oh, that will be quite all right, I am sure,” agreed the soft-voiced one. “Then I’ll just stroll down the street a bit and be back in time to breakfast with you.”
Dalton nodded and the fair-haired fashion plate stepped down into the path and strolled away.
“All of which tells us,” reflected Hank, “that our friend Dalton has been here at least since yesterday, and that he and the Elizabeth-boy dude are not very well acquainted.”
Butts looked up, almost with a start, to find Dalton close at hand, scowling into the boy’s face.
“I suppose you’re out here to watch me,” growled Dalton, glaring.
“If I am, you wouldn’t expect me to grow 235 confidential about it, would you?” asked Hank, grinning into the other’s face.