He complied, and she darted away, fumbling with her dress. "I come," she called, and opened the door. Lucienne and Pennell came in, and the two men exchanged glances. Then Pennell looked away. Lucienne glanced at them and shrugged her shoulders. "Come, Graham," said Pennell; "let's get out! Good-bye, you two."
The pair of them went down and out in silence. No one had seen them come, and there was no one to see them go. Peter glanced at the number and made a mental note of it, and they set off down the street.
Presently Pennell laughed, "I played you a dirty trick, Graham," he said,
"I'm sorry."
"You needn't be," said Peter; "I'm very glad I went."
"Why?" said Pennell curiously, glancing sideways at him. "You are a queer fellow, Graham." But there was a note of relief in his tone.
Peter said nothing, but walked on. "Where next?" demanded Pennell.
"It looks as if you are directing this outfit," said Peter; "I'm in your hands."
"All right," said Pennell; "I know."
They took a street running parallel to the docks, and entered an American bar. Peter glanced round curiously. "I've never been here before," he said.
"Probably not," said Pennell. "It's not much at this time of the year, but jolly cool in the summer. And you can get first-class cocktails. I want something now; what's yours?"