"It is—not," he assented joyfully. "And so long as it is not, I have nought to say, except," the policeman's voice trailed off into a whisper, "except, sir, that the lady is waving to you. Look now, and see."
Beekman looked. There she was, indeed.
"I've been up an hour!" she cried. "Wait until I come down."
In the music-room, she greeted him with:
"Have you had your breakfast?"
"Yes. I came to tell you...."
"Then you got my telegram all right?"
Beekman shook his head.
"You're not the Bank Le Boeuf of Buffalo?"
"I didn't phone you," she went on, ignoring his question, "because I couldn't, don't you know. But I sent a wire so you'd get it the first thing this morning—at your club."