The limousine drew up by the curb; Clive jumped out, aided Athalie to descend; and started for the grilled door where a light glimmered.
"This is not the house!" exclaimed Athalie, stopping short. "Where are you taking me, Clive?"
"Come on," he said, "I merely want to show you how I've had the new apartment house built—"
"But—it's too late! What an odd idea, taking me to inspect a new apartment house at two in the morning! Are you really serious?"
He nodded and rang. A sleepy night porter opened, recognised Clive, and touched his hat.
"Take us to the top, Mike," he said.
"Have you the keys, sorr?"
"Yes."
They entered the cage and it shot up to the top floor.
"Wait for us, Mike."... And to Athalie: "This is Michael Daly who will do anything you ask of him—won't you, Mike?"