"Look, there's Joe Grant," Willard went on. "This is his night, all right. Look at the bulge to that manuscript case, and the shine to his hair. He mixes varnish with his hair dye, all right. I said, look at him."
"I'm looking."
"Well, you don't do much else. What's eating you to-night? Say, will you go in if I will?"
An inarticulate murmur answered him.
"No."
"All right. Well, what do you know about that? Look there."
"I'm looking."
The latest comers were crowding hurriedly into the entrance hall by this time, and with them, a slender, heavily veiled figure had slipped quickly through the door and out of sight.
"Was that Lil?" Willard said. "Lil Burr?"