He did not know how long these informal affairs were apt to last, but at a rough guess figured that they would still be on hand at midnight and he ought to be there before that.
He urged the driver on.
Finally the vehicle drew up. They had arrived. When Eric found that it lacked fifteen minutes of twelve, he was satisfied, handed the driver his fee, and hurried along the street.
He drew near the house.
Lights still shone in every window. Something caused him to feel very queerly—he could not say what it was.
Did Joe know all?
Perhaps not—he might still be in a fog and wondering why all the plans had miscarried. Eric did not hesitate.
He immediately ran up the steps.
Then he noticed that the parlor was deserted—the good people could not have gone, for he could hear the laughter and buzz of voices—ah! they were doubtless in the diningroom below.
He rang the bell.