“You will not do anything I ask you not to, I presume?” I questioned, turning to him.
“But Nat----” he protested.
“S. K.,” I said, “if you do, it will end our friendship--that is all.”
He said, “Well, I’ll be darned!” and followed me out. S. K.’s man was in the hall dusting some old brasses that S. K. had picked up in the little hill towns of Italy, and I was not surprised. S. K. was annoyed, for he likes the work of his establishment to go on when no one is around.
In the outer hall I paused. I said I wanted a drink, and we went in again. Debson wasn’t in the hall, and I wouldn’t let S. K. ring. “I’ll go to the kitchen----” I said, and, as he protested, I ran out. Ito was there, talking to Debson. I was not surprised at that either.
Then I went back, and we went driving.
“I didn’t mean to speak that way, but I had to,” I explained after we started. “You see, your man was listening. I found Ito in the kitchen, and both Debson and Ito wear duds that come from Rogers Peet, and last week I went in there and matched the sample, and it came from one of their suits. . . . It was quite easy to match, for it has a purple cast and the weave is unusually tight.”
“Ito!” said S. K.
“Possibly,” I replied, “but I don’t believe it. . . . You engaged this man just after I was so annoyed and troubled by being followed, and when I saw the blind man so often. That ceased, and someone began to creep in my room--get in somehow--at night.”
“I will never forgive myself----” said S. K., through set teeth.