XII A MATTER OF LIGHT
Pendleton was late in arriving at Criss-Cross. He was the last of the party to come in, and he hastened to the quarters, the servant showed him, in the bachelor end over the billiard room in a separate angle of the house.
Once there, he flung off his business suit, plunged through his bath, flourished his safety, cutting himself in his haste (who ever saw a safety that was safe?) and then proceeded to dash into the clothes laid out for him.
"Damn!" he exclaimed forcefully, as a stud that had been insecurely fastened slipped from its hole and retired gracefully under the bureau.
He was down on his knees searching for it when there was a knock on his door.
"Come in!" he shouted, without looking up.
Sheldon Burgoyne entered, stopped a moment with a quizzical smile, and without a word sat down. It was not a time for speech—on his part.
Pendleton presently retrieved the stud and arose, red in the face and angry.
"Why didn't you say something?" he demanded.
"I thought it was a time to be quiet," Burgoyne replied.