“You’ll have to get in there the best way you can, then,” said the clerk. “I am not going to have you shown in.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Nick.
The clerk gave the detectives the number of the room, and they opened the door and entered without even the formality of knocking. Mantelle sprang to his feet, rage showing in his eyes. His companion, who hastily dropped a veil over her face as the door was opened, shrank back into her chair and turned her head away.
She was slender of figure, and seemed to be rather good-looking. Owing to the thick veil, Nick could not distinguish the full outlines of her face, but what he could see of it gave him the impression that the woman was young, and fair of complexion. There was something about the droop of the shoulders, the graceful lines of the waist, which seemed familiar to the detective, yet he could not at that time place the woman.
“What do you want in here?” demanded Mantelle, springing from his chair. “Have you no eyes? Can’t you see that the room is taken?”
“Just a moment,” said Nick, with the precinct-detective swagger. “I’m a police detective, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” replied the other hotly, “but if you are, what is that to me? Have the kindness to leave the room.”
Chick was looking on in amused wonder. He had never seen his chief play that rôle before.
“I have business with you,” said Nick, taking a chair.
It seemed to Nick that a shade of anxiety, passed over the man’s face.