“Tonight is fair,” he said. “Tomorrow may be stormy.”
Ogden stirred as if aroused from a hypnotic trance. “Probabilities indicate a fair night,” he muttered.
Takasaki looked about the comfortable room, then rose slowly to his feet. “I no keep you longer,” he said, shaking hands. “You so good to see me.”
“I’ll go with you to the door,” and Ogden also rose.
“It not necessary,” protested Takasaki politely. “You have much to do—I know way out.”
But paying no heed to his protest Ogden accompanied the Japanese attaché to the front door, and, had Charles been loitering in the next room or the floor above, he would not have guessed their presence. They moved like shadows across the hall.
Ogden closed the door upon Takasaki with care that it should not slam, then walking heavily over to the pantry he called to Charles.
“Comin’, sor, comin’,” came the answer, and the butler arrived in breathless haste.
“Have Mr. Barclay and Professor Norcross returned?”
“No, sor,” Charles came a step nearer. “Mr. Barclay telephoned an hour back, sor, to say he’d be in about midnight, sor; but not to wait up for him, because, sor, he still has the housekey Mrs. Ogden gave him the night of the charity ball.”