"Oh," said Crockett lightly, "Mr. Rockwell would be much more likely to telephone from the De Soto."
Merriam was startled, but he could only go on as he had begun.
"Rockwell?" he echoed, as if still further mystified.
"Come, come," said Crockett, "I recognised his voice. I know it perfectly."
"No friend of mine," Merriam persisted. There might be no advantage in continued denial, but certainly there could be none in admission.
"Really, Mr. Merriam, hadn't you better tell me the whole story? You'll not find me ungenerous. I'll let you down easy."
"The whole story?" said Merriam. "Thought I told you my whole story in the bedroom a while back. What more do you want?"
Crockett shrugged his shoulders. He smiled blandly:
"What I want is another cocktail, I guess. You'll join me, Mr. Merriam? You've had nothing all evening. It must have been dull for you, lying in there, while these pretty ladies have been entertaining me so charmingly. I understood you were sick, you know," he added slyly, "or I should have insisted on your coming out long ago." Then, quickly, so as to give Merriam no chance to reply: "Jennie, my dear, let's have your pretty dance now. We were interrupted."
"No," said Jennie, rather sleepily, "I'm tired."