“What’s your idea?” I asked.
“Why, follow him up and try to find out who asked him to the party. Then work it so that you or I get an invitation.”
“Sounds promising,” I said.
“You bet it does,” said Moore. “Anyhow, I’ll follow it up to-morrow. I’ll try to get in touch with the young rip and wheedle some information out of him. But I knew you’d want to know about it first. Besides, it’s as well to keep in touch with each other’s movements, I think. This young fellow lives on West 44th Street, in the Branscombe. I’ll go up there to-morrow afternoon.”
“Right. Good luck!” I answered with a good deal of feeling.
“Any news at your end?” Moore inquired.
“Not yet,” I told him reluctantly, and we rang off.
But, as you shall see, that night marked the end of the overture and the rising of the curtain on the first act of what was to prove a very serious drama.
Chapter VI.
The Girl in Gray
The following afternoon I had an engagement for tea with Mrs. Furneau. She had told me to come early, ostensibly because we were to have a quiet talk over some plans for amateur theatricals. But since our second meeting I had made a good deal of an effort to please her, and our friendship was on a more or less intimate basis at this time.