was an effort at the authoritative, the autocratic. It was not without the note of scorn; but as a counter-challenge it lacked confidence.
"You know what I am doing here," was the woman's calm retort. There was an answering and unequivocal derisiveness in her voice as she spoke. Kestner could even catch Lambert's movement of impatience.
"Let me talk to this girl for a few minutes," he said to the man called Burke.
"Sure," was Burke's airily indifferent reply. He evidently stopped and turned back as he crossed the room. "I've got to get that letter-head anyway. How long'll you be here?"
"It will not be long."
There was a barb to the words as Lambert shot them out.
"It may be longer than you imagine," said the quiet-voiced young woman. Burke must have stopped to study her. He laughed quietly, for no reason that Kestner could fathom.
"Then there's a door-key in the desk-drawer," the adventurer called back as he opened the street-door. "But don't you two high-spirited aristocrats get messin' up my office, or you'll be sorry you came."
Kestner could hear the sound of the door as it closed. Then came a period of silence, pregnant, disturbing, ominous.
"Now what do you want?" Lambert was heard to ask. There was quietness in his tone by this time, but there was also menace.
"I want Carlesi."
