"Go and make your excuses at the table then."
But Merriam was still looking at Simpson. He had perceived that the impassivity of the waiter's countenance covered a blank misery.
"Simpson," he said, "we'll try to see that this works out to your advantage--at Jennie's. Shake on that." And, in violation of all codes on which the social system rests, he held out his hand as one man to another.
Simpson, much more rigorously trained in those codes than Merriam had been, hesitated, glanced at Rockwell. But a light came into his eyes. He seized the hand, gripped it, gave one spasmodic shake.
"Thank you, sir!" he said.
He dropped the hand and as quickly as possible regained his servitorial manner.
Merriam smiled at him and then spoke to Rockwell:
"Where shall I join you--Murray and I?"
"At the Ladies' Entrance," Rockwell replied. "It's less likely to be watched than the other."
Merriam turned and passed through the curtained doorway, down the hall, and along one side of the Peacock Cabaret. The curtain being up on the small stage and the moderately comely demoiselles of the chorus executing a dance which involved a liberal display of white tights, he reached his alcove comparatively unnoticed.