"Then, Marian, I'm to understand it's—goodnight?"
"I think," said the girl with a level look of disdain, "it might be far better if you were to understand that it's good-bye."
"You," he said with slight difficulty—"you mean that, Marian?"
"Finally!" she asseverated.
He shrugged again; and his eyes, wavering, of a sudden met P. Sybarite's and stabbed them with a glance of ruthless and unbridled hatred, so envenomed that the little man was transiently conscious of a misgiving.
"Here," he told himself in doubt, "is one who, given his way, would have me murdered within twenty-four hours!"
And he thought of Red November, and wondered what had been the fate of that personage at the hands of the valiant young patrolman. Almost undoubtedly the gunman had escaped arrest....
Shaynon had turned and was striding away toward the Fifth Avenue entrance, when Marian roused P. Sybarite with a word.
"Finis," she said, enchanting him with the frank intimacy of her smile.
He made, with a serious visage, the gesture of crossed fingers that exorcises an evil spirit.