“Poor old Reggie!” said Joe, piloting him toward the hotel entrance and looking invitingly at Jim. “I’ll put you wise to a couple of shops where you can get all the novel neckties you want. Come on upstairs, old boy, and see Mabel. She’ll be pleasantly surprised. Coming, Jim?”
Jim hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The three stepped into the elevator and were swiftly shot up to the fourth floor. As they left the elevator, Reggie looked Jim over critically and gave vent to one of his too-frank observations.
“Lookin’ rather seedy, old chap,” he said. “Off the feed bag and sleepin’ badly, eh?”
“Not at all. I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle,” retorted Jim, brusquely.
The curt tone caused Reggie to look at the other in mild surprise, and, seeing that he was about to give voice to this emotion, Joe quickly changed the subject, keeping the conversation on safe ground until they reached the door of his rooms.
Mabel had not yet returned from her shopping expedition, and Joe felt curiously deserted as he led the way into the quiet place.
“Mabel is out buying up the department stores,” he said. “Reckon she will be back most any time now. Tell us about yourself, Reggie. Every one well at home?”
Reggie glanced briefly at Jim, who had slumped into a chair and was staring abstractedly out of a window, then turned to Joe.
“Very well, old chap. In excellent health and spirits,” he replied, puffing at a cigarette. “Missing Mabel, of course. It is really quite remarkable how that girl stirs things up. Bah Jove, it’s a gift. Bally place gone dead without her, you know.”
“Do you think you can tell me anything about that?” inquired Joe, with a humorously uplifted eyebrow. “I know all there is to know about missing Mabel!”