"What's that under your arm?" demanded the woman.
"Kimono. Lady in number six done got off an' fo'got it."
The woman seized it. "Karl, don't you see? It is so nearly like mine it would fool any one!... Porter, what was this woman like?"
"Can't say, ma'am. Always wo' a veil. Boss, dat young man nex' do' is goin' t' de Waldorf. I'll be back in a minute fo' de grips an' de kimono."
George backed out diplomatically. He did not like the flavor of the atmosphere; too electrical. Besides, he had a box to deliver. He was plumb in the middle of the war.
"Berta, I don't understand this. I saw you! Franz and Wittel will back me!"
With the kimono spread over her knees, The Yellow Typhoon frowned into space.
"Some spy. Saw me somewhere, perhaps back in that hotel. You were playing cards; your scrutiny wouldn't be keen. A bit of court-plaster, a veil, and this kimono...."
"The full face, Berta.... Yours!" ominously.