“I did—I dined with her.”
“Who else was there?”
“You—she talked Croyden at least seven-eighths of the time; I, the other eighth.”
“Must have been an interesting conversation. Anything left of the victim, afterward?”
“I refuse to become facetious,” Macloud responded. Then he threw his cigar into the grate and arose. “It matters not what was said, nor who said it! If you will permit me the advice, you will take your chance while you have it.”
“Have I a—chance?” Croyden asked.
“You have—more than a chance, if you act, now——” He walked across to the window. He would let that sink in.—“How’s the Symphony in Blue?” he asked.
“As charming as ever—and prepared for your coming.”
“What?”