"The missing person generally turns up and curses the
scaremongers.--Lady Amesbury, this Maryland chicken is one of our
favourite New York dishes. Kendrick, have some more wine. Wilshaw, your
appetite has soon flagged."
"All the same," Kendrick mused, "it's a dashed queer thing about
Stanley Rees."
After his guests had departed, Wingate had a few minutes alone with
Josephine.
"I hate letting you go back to that house," he admitted.
She laughed softly.
"Why, my dear," she said, "think how necessary it is. For the first time,
in my life I am absolutely looking forward to it. I never thought that I
should live to associate romance with that ugly, brown-stone building."
"If there's the slightest hitch, you'll let me hear, won't you?" he
begged. "The telephone is on to my room, and anything that happens
unforeseen--remember this, Josephine--is a complete surprise to you.
Everything is arranged so that you are not implicated in any way."
"Pooh!" she scoffed. "Nothing will happen. You are invincible, John. You
will conquer with these men as you have with poor me."
"You have no regrets?" he asked, as they moved through the hall on
the way out.
"I regret nothing," she answered fervently. "I never shall."
CHAPTER XVII
Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office,
returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting
him.
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