“Good night, friend,” the Quakeress accompanied the two men to her front door. “Do not forget thee must come again soon.”
“I certainly will,” and raising his hat, Calhoun-Cooper stepped into the motor. He watched Madame Yvonett until she closed the door. “A gentlewoman of the old school, Nichols,” he commented softly. “Cultured, brilliant, kindly——”
“She is that and then some,” exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. “Cousin Yvonett is a brick.”
Calhoun-Cooper smiled. “Hardly the expression I should have selected, but perhaps it covers my meaning.” He said no more until the car drew up before his club. “Come in with me, Nichols, I am anxious to have an uninterrupted talk with you. I will detain you but a few minutes.”
Barely waiting for Tom’s assent, he strode into the club and led the way to a small unoccupied room and carefully closed the door. Tom took the chair pushed toward him, and waited with some uneasiness for his companion to explain why he wished to see him. He wondered if Calhoun-Cooper had heard of some of Joe’s Washington escapades, and if he was to be catechised on the subject.
“Miss Marjorie Langdon is your cousin, is she not?” asked Calhoun-Cooper, breaking the silence.
“Yes; my second cousin, to be exact.”
“Can you tell me where she procured the emerald and diamond bracelet which she pledged with the Justice of the Peace at Hyattsville...?”
“Can I what?” exclaimed Tom, in profound astonishment.
Calhoun-Cooper repeated the question.