McCarthy laughed a short, rasping laugh.
"It's a good joke on him," he explained. "If he and his thugs are hunting for me all over the city and I here in his own home, safe; the last place he would look for me."
"You mustn't wait," she urged anxiously. "You mustn't wait here, Larry. He is drinking and I do not know what he might do if he came home and found you here. You must go now."
"I'll run back to the hotel and pick up my bodyguard, Swanson," he said steadily, and with an attempt at indifference of manner, "I think I'll be safe."
"You'll kiss me goodbye, Larry," she pleaded. "She wouldn't care—if she knew."
"She?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
He was astonished and curious to learn how the girl knew anything of his growing regard for Betty Tabor.
"I knew, I knew," she repeated. "I knew it the first time we met—I knew there was another girl"——
"I'm certain I did not hint at such a thing," he replied with an attempt at dignified bearing. "I have not even told her."
"Good-bye," she said. "I hope you're happy, Larry, and please don't think I meant to do wrong."