"I think it is worth waiting a while to see
who it is."
Having ordered what I did not want, I glanced about until my eye
rested on a large pier-glass at the other end of the dining-room.
"Craig," I whispered excitedly, "Mrs. B. is in the writing-room - I
can see her in that glass at the end of the room, behind you."
"Get up and change places with me as quietly as you can, Walter,"
he said quickly. "I want to see her when she can't see me."
Kennedy was staring in rapt attention at the mirror. "There's a
man with her, Walter," he said under his breath. "He came in while
we were changing places - a fine-looking chap. By Jove, I've seen
him before somewhere. His face and his manner are familiar to me.
But I simply can't place him. Did you see her wraps in the chair?
No? Well, he's helping her on with them. They're going out. Garcon,
l'addition - vite."
We were too late, however, for just as we reached the door we caught
a fleeting glimpse of a huge new limousine.
"Who was that man who just went out with the lady?" asked Craig of
the negro who turned the revolving-door at the carriage entrance.
"Jack Delarue, sah - in 'The Grass Widower,' sah," replied the
doorman. "Yes, sah, he stays here once in a while.
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