Emerging from my hideout, I found the hall in complete darkness. Not daring to risk rousing Niki, whom I still believed to be asleep on the divan, I stole quietly in the direction of a streak of light, on which my eyes had become focused in the dark. The light came from the dining room. I heard a low murmur of voices. The words were indistinguishable, but one of the voices was indubitably that of Pat's. Then, suddenly, I overheard her giving orders in a slightly raised voice:
"Cold chicken, and a salad.... See that you serve it promptly.... Wine, too—some sherry.... Now, look sharp about it.... And be as quiet as a mouse."
Peering cautiously between the curtains in the doorway, I had the surprise of my life. Pat was serving supper to McGinity in formal state. I could hardly believe my eyes. The reporter sat at the head of the long table, looking rather battered; his handsome, boyish face rather drawn and pale, his coal black hair dishevelled. His clothes looked like they badly needed pressing. The only illumination came from two burning candles in tall silver candlesticks on the table. Pat sat at the far end; a most discreet distance, which relieved my anxiety considerably.
My greatest surprise, though, came in discovering Niki. I gathered that Pat had roused him and pressed him into service. With the marvelous calm of the Oriental, he was placing the doilies and small silver before the reporter, to whom he had so recently delivered a knockout blow. He seemed most willing to assist Pat, to whom he always conceded absolute loyalty.
"Slippery little devil, isn't he?" McGinity remarked, after Niki had glided from the room. "But he's got an awful punch packed in that right arm," he added, as he rubbed his jaw, now slightly swollen and discolored.
"A glass of sherry will do your jaw good," said Pat.
"Supper for two," McGinity remarked, musingly. "It's too bad we haven't some music. You must dance divinely."
"You look utterly worn out," said Pat, steering with tact into another channel. "A shipwreck, and being cast ashore, a knockout blow, and a prison cell, is a whole lot for one evening."
"Another half hour of this—your delightful companionship—I'm sure, would quite finish me," said McGinity. "You've been a godsend."
"If you keep on like this, you'll make me angry, furiously angry," said Pat. "I'd much rather hear—well, how you chose to be a reporter."