"Couldn't your business wait?" inquired Desboro politely.
"Sorry, Desboro, but I was a little ahead of you in the entry, I think."
The car stopped.
"Studio twenty," said the boy; slammed the gates, and shot down into dimly lighted depths again, leaving the two men together.
"I am wondering," mused Clydesdale gently, "whether by any chance your business with this—ah—Mr. Waudle resembles my business with him."
They looked at each other.
Desboro nodded: "Very probably," he said in a low voice.
"Oh! Then perhaps you might care to be present at the business meeting," said Clydesdale, "as a spectator, merely, of course."
"Thanks, awfully. But might I not persuade you to remain as a spectator——"
"Very good of you, Desboro, but I need the—ah—exercise. Really, I've gone quite stale this winter. Don't even keep up my squash."