Bill awoke, yawned, then sat up in bed. Broad daylight was streaming into the room through the screened windows and a glance at his watch showed the time to be nine o’clock. The door opened and Osceola poked his dark head around the edge of it.
“How’s the bandaged hero this morning?” he inquired and came into the bedroom.
“Sleepy, thank you.” Bill swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched luxuriously and stood up. “I’ll feel more human when I’ve had a shower. Nothing happened across the way last night?”
“Not a blessed thing, and Deborah, I’m glad to say, seems quite her old self this morning.”
“Good! Any orders from the boss?”
“Davis, you mean?”
“Yeah. What’s the old sleuth doing this merry morn?”
“He’s gone to New York. Left on the express an hour and a half ago, said he’d be back by six-thirty this evening at the latest.”
“What are we to do in the meantime?”
“Take it easy. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, so I’m going to make up for it. I peeped in here a couple of times, but you were a dead one.”