"Well, then—jusqu'au bal. Good night."
Ware drank his black coffee alone on the terrace. Daunt—a Secretary of Embassy! A rival less experienced than he, full of youth's enthusiasms—a young Romeo, wooing from the garden of officialdom! It had been a handful of days against his own round year; a few meetings, at most, to offset his long and constant plan! And, as a result, the thing he had seen through the car window. He shut his teeth. He would have taken bitter toll of that kiss!
As he lit his cigar, one of the hotel boys came to him. On his arrival Ware had sent him to Phil's bungalow on the Bluff with a note.
"Ware-San not at home," he said.
"Where is he?"
"No Yokohama now. He go Tokyo yesterday. Stay one week."
"Is he at the hotel there?"
"Boy say no hotel. House have got."
"What is the address?"