"We're coming in, you know," the owner of the Bird Cage told him in answer to his explanation of why his master could not be seen. "This is important business and we've got to see Bromfield."
"Yes, sir, but he said—"
"He'll change his mind when he knows why we're here." Whitford pushed in and Beatrice followed him. From the adjoining room came the sound of voices.
"I thought you told us Mr. Bromfield had gone to sleep and the doctor said he wasn't to be wakened," said Beatrice with a broad, boyish smile at the man's discomfiture.
"The person inside wouldn't take no, Miss, for an answer."
"He was like us, wasn't he? Did he give his name?" asked the young woman.
"No, Miss. Just said he was from the Omnium Club."
Whitford and his daughter exchanged glances. "Same business we're on.
Announce us and we'll go right in."
They were on his heels when he gave their names.
Bromfield started up, too late to prevent their entrance. He stood silent for a moment, uncertain what to do, disregarding his fiancée's glance of hostile inquiry lifted toward the other guest.