“That’s enough.” Vance seemed bored. “Far too excitin’. I haven’t your rugged constitution, don’t y’ know.”
He went to the desk and made out a check to Mannix for a thousand dollars. Then he turned to Markham and held out his hand.
“Had a jolly evening and all that sort of thing. . . . And, don’t forget: we lunch together to-morrow. One o’clock at the club, what?”
Markham hesitated. “If nothing interferes.”
“But really, y’ know, it mustn’t,” insisted Vance. “You’ve no idea how eager you are to see me.”
He was unusually silent and thoughtful during the ride home. Not one explanatory word could I get out of him. But when he bade me good night he said:
“There’s a vital part of the puzzle still missing, and until it’s found none of it has any meaning.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Guilty Man
(Tuesday, September 18; 1 p. m.)
Vance slept late the following morning, and spent the hour or so before lunch checking a catalogue of ceramics which were to be auctioned next day at the Anderson Galleries. At one o’clock we entered the Stuyvesant Club and joined Markham in the grill.