“Kill him,” the Colonel retorted coolly. “It strikes me you and the Black Minorca are rather slow playing even with young Cardigan.”
Rondeau grunted. “I theenk mebbe so you kill heem yourself, boss,” he replied enigmatically, and hung up.
The dictograph which Shirley had asked Bryce to obtain for her in San Francisco arrived on the regular passenger-steamer on Thursday morning and Bryce called her up to ask when she desired it sent over.
“Good morning, Mr. Cardigan,” she greeted him cheerily. “How do you feel this morning? Any the worse for having permitted yourself to be a human being last night?”
“Why, I feel pretty fine, Shirley. I think it did me a lot of good to crawl out of my shell last night.”
“You feel encouraged to go on living, eh?”
“Then, something has occurred of late to give you new courage?”
“Oh, many things. Didn't I give an exhibition of my courage in accepting Ogilvy's invitation to dinner, knowing you were going to be there?”
She did not like that. “You carry your frankness to extremes, my friend,” she retorted. “I'm sure I've always been much nicer to you than you deserve.”
“Nevertheless there wasn't any valid reason why I should tantalize myself last night.”
“Then why did you come?” He had a suspicion that she was laughing silently at him.
“Partly to please Ogilvy, who has fallen head over heels in love with Moira; partly to please Moira, who wanted me to meet you, but mostly to please myself, because, while I dreaded it, nevertheless I wanted to see you again. I comforted myself with the thought that for the sake of appearances we dared not quarrel in the presence of Moira and my friend Ogilvy, and I dare say you felt the same way. At any rate, I have seldom had more enjoyment when partaking of a meal with an enemy.”
“Please do not say that,” she answered. “I am your opponent, but not your enemy.”
“That's nice of you. By the way, Shirley, you may inform your uncle at breakfast Friday morning about my connection with the N. C. O. In fact, I think it would be far better for you if you made it a point to do so.”
“Because both Ogilvy and myself have a very strong suspicion that your uncle has a detective or two on our trails. There was a strange man rather prevalent around him all day yesterday and I noticed a fellow following my car last night. He was on a bicycle and followed me home. I communicated my suspicions to Ogilvy, and this morning he spent two hours trying to shake the same man off his trail--and couldn't. So I judge your uncle will learn to-day that you dined with Ogilvy, Moira, and me last night.”