"An engagement for dinner, Hartley. I'm expecting Carlos Paredes to pick me up here any minute."
Graham's disapproval was belligerent.
"Why, in the name of heaven, Bobby, do you run around with that damned Panamanian? Steer him off
to-night. I've argued with you before. It's unpleasant, I know, but the man carries every mark of crookedness."
"Easy with my friends, Hartley! You don't understand Carlos. He's good fun when you know him--awfully
good fun."
"So," Graham said, "is this sort of thing. Too many cocktails, too much wine. Paredes has the same pleasant,
dangerous quality."
A club servant entered.
"In the reception room, Mr. Blackburn."
Bobby took the card, tore it into little bits, and dropped them one by one into the waste-paper basket.
"Tell him I'll be right out." He turned to Graham.
"Sorry you don't like my playmates. I'll probably run out after dinner and let the old man terrorize me as a
cure for his own fear. Pleasant prospect! So long."
Graham caught at his arm.
"I'm sorry. Can't we forget to-night that we disagree about Paredes? Let me dine with you."
Bobby's laugh was uncomfortable.
"Come on, if you wish, and be my guardian angel. God knows I need one."
He walked across the hall and into the reception room. The light was not brilliant there. One or two men sat
reading newspapers about a green-shaded lamp on the centre table, but Bobby didn't see Paredes at first. Then
from the obscurity of a corner a form, tall and graceful, emerged with a slow monotony of movement
suggestive of stealth. The man's dark, sombre eyes revealed nothing. His jet-black hair, parted in the middle,
and his carefully trimmed Van Dyke beard gave him an air of distinction, an air, at the same time, a trifle too
reserved. For a moment, as the green light stained his face unhealthily, Bobby could understand Graham's
aversion. He brushed the idea aside.
"Glad you've come, Carlos."
The smile of greeting vanished abruptly from Paredes's face. He looked with steady eyes beyond Bobby's
shoulder. Bobby turned. Graham stood on the threshold, his face a little too frank. But the two men shook
hands.
"I'd an idea until I saw Bobby," Graham said, "that you'd gone back to Panama."
Paredes yawned.
"Each year I spend more time in New York. Business suggests it. Pleasure demands it."