Barres, surprised and annoyed, halted on the landing:
“Your people didn’t interfere, I hope.”
“No. There was nothing in them of interest to us,” said Renoux naïvely. “I sent a report when I sent on to Washington the papers which you secured for us.”
Barres paused before his studio door, key in hand. They could hear the gramophone going inside. He said:
“I don’t have to ask you to be fair, Renoux, because the man who is unfair to others swindles himself, and you are too decent, too intelligent to do that. I am going to present you to Thessalie Dunois, which happens to be her real name, and I am going to tell her in your presence who you are. Then I shall leave you alone with her.”
He fitted his latchkey and opened the door.
Westmore was trying fancy dancing with Dulcie on one side, and Thessalie on the other—the latter evidently directing operations.
“Garry!” exclaimed Thessalie.
“You’re a fine one! Where have you been?” began Westmore. Then he caught sight of Renoux and became silent.