only her flaming cheeks belying her outward cool ness.
"You get off at seven, don't you?" he said calmly.
"Yes. Why?"
"I have to go upstairs on business. When you get off, please bring the rest of my dinner up to my private office on the top floor of the hotel. There'll be a big tip in it," he added with an attempt at a smile, "and I want to have a little talk with you anyway."
He went up to his office, wondering if she would come of her own free will or at the behest of the gunmen he had ordered to keep a close watch upon her and bring her up in case she should try to get away without complying with his request. He hoped she would come by herself.
She did, already attired in an attractive street costume, and carrying a large tray with a number of covered dishes. She set the tray down on his desk. He looked up at her grimly.
"Are these things poisoned, too?" he asked.
She jerked so violently that she almost dropped the tray and her eyes widened in terror.
"I don't know what—" she stammered.
"There was enough poison in that soup you
