"Mathison. I believe for the present I'll call you Mathison. That's comrade-y. And day after to-morrow we shall have tea together."
"And I'll bring Malachi. But I warn you he swears dreadfully sometimes, when he's happy."
"I'd love him!" She laughed. A few moments ago she hadn't believed she could ever laugh again joyously. After all, what did her affairs amount to in this great game? She was an infinitesimal grain of sand, inconsiderable. A trap for his enemy, and she had almost spoiled it. And casually he had said he had a few loose threads to pick up!
She was reasonably certain now that all recollection of the old lady on the Nippon Maru had passed from his mind. Why not? Why should a young man of thirty keep fresh in his memory an old woman ostensibly sixty? He had found Hilda Nordstrom, and that was sufficient for the present.
"Did I see the red and blue lights of a drug-store down the street as we came along?"
"I don't remember."
The double doors rolled back smoothly and The Yellow Typhoon stepped into the room, sending the doors shut again. She leaned with her back against one of the doors, and the crooked smile on her lips almost hid the little mole.
Mathison was on his feet immediately, his nerves singing. All along he had expected such a moment; and yet, now that it had come, it stupefied him. He stood so that he partially covered Miss Farrington. He wondered if any man had ever before been confronted by such a situation. He managed to throw a bit of gallantry into his bow.
"And how is the jealous husband to-night?"