“May I ask what’s going to stop her?” Monty inquired, goaded into sarcasm. “Do you think she needs to know the combination of an ordinary lock like that top drawer?”
“The necklace isn’t there,” Denby said.
Monty looked at him piteously. “For Heaven’s sake don’t tell me I’ve got it somewhere on me!”
Denby drew it out of a false pocket under the right lapel of his coat and held the precious string up to the other’s view. “That’s why,” he observed.
“Then everything’s all right,” Monty cried with unrestrained joy.
“Everything’s all wrong,” Denby corrected.
“But, Steve,” Monty said reproachfully, “the necklace—”
“Oh, damn the necklace!” Denby interrupted viciously.
Monty shook his head mournfully. His friend’s aberrations were astounding.
“Steve,” he said slowly, “you’re a fool!”