With a sigh of relief, Wentworth crossed the
street, rang the doorbell, and was admitted.
"That you, Captain Wentworth?" called his hostess. "We waited for you
until just this minute."
"Awfully sorry to be late--detestable thing to do--going away in the
morning--thousand-and-one things to attend to--be down in a moment to
offer humble apology."
Swiftly and silently Wentworth removed the coat from within his own,
crossed the hall, substituted the baum marten for the Russian sable,
and reentered the gentlemen's dressing room, where it was but the work
of a moment to conceal the garment within the folds of his coat. Then
he descended the stairs, entered the dining room, and seated himself in
the vacant chair beside Jean McNabb.
The dinner went as dinners do and was brought to a rather abrupt
termination by someone's discovery that it lacked but five minutes to
eight. As the guests rose from the table Wentworth gave a startled
exclamation.
"In my haste in dressing I forgot my pocketbook. I distinctly
recollect removing it from my pocket and tossing it upon the bed, and
there I must have left it." He turned to Elsie Campbell. "I hope you
will pardon me if I hurry away but really, that pocketbook contains a
rather large sum--expense money you know--and, I am almost certain that
I neglected to lock my room. I will join you at the door of the
theatre; I can easily reach there before you, if I hurry.
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