VI
EUGENE'S AT TWO
"Since we don't want to be overheard," remarked Mr. Anisty, "it's no use trying the grill-room down-stairs, although I admit it is more interesting."
"Just as yeh say, sir."
Awed and awkward, the police detective stumbled up the steps behind his imperturbable guide; it was a great honor, in his eyes, to lunch in company with a "swell." Man of stodgy common-sense and limited education that he was, the glamour of the Maitland millions obscured his otherwise clear vision completely. And uneasily he speculated as to whether or not he would be able to manipulate correctly the usual display of knives and forks.
An obsequious head-waiter greeted them, bowing, in the lobby. "Good afternoon, Mr. Maitland," he murmured. "Table for two?"
"Good afternoon," responded the masquerader, with an assumed abstraction, inwardly congratulating himself upon having hit upon a restaurant where the real Maitland was evidently known. There were few circumstances which he could not turn to profit, fewer emergencies to which he could not rise, he complimented Handsome Dan Anisty.
"A table for two," he drawled Maitland-wise, "In a corner somewhere, away from the crowd, you know."
"This way, if you please, Mr. Maitland."
"By the way," suggested the burglar, unfolding his serviette and glancing keenly about the room,—which, by good chance, was thinly populated, "by the way, you know, you haven't told me your name yet."