"Ain't he got the lovely manners," said Huntley, pretending admiration. "Always did have, too. And the swell friends. Still going round in the caviar crowd, I hear. What if I was to tell your friends here who you are?"
"You won't do that," said Wall, outwardly unshaken, but his breath came faster.
"Oh—you're sure of that, are you?"
"Yes. Who I am isn't one of your worries in your new line of business. And you're going to keep still because I can do you a favor—and I will."
"Thanks, Craig. Excuse me—Martin Wall. Sort of a strain keeping track of your names, you know."
"Forget that I say I can do you a favor—if you'll promise not to mix in my affairs."
"Well—what is it?"
"You're down here looking for a diamond necklace known as Chain Lightning's Collar."
"Great little guesser, you are. Well—what about it?"
"Promise?"
