Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/53

Van Horn tossed down the straw hat he had substituted for the silk topper in which he had won the approval of several million women. “A primitive country, Tahiti,” he smiled. “It would have reminded you of Hollywood, Jessop.”

The butler permitted himself a discreet smile. Van Horn pushed on into the living-room, and Jessop followed.

“No one here?” the actor cried. “Lord—am I as early as all that?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Van Horn. Some of the guests are enjoying the bathing, which I understand is rather famous in certain quarters. A few, I believe, are on the beach. Would you care to join the—er—the other young people in the water, sir?”

Van Horn grinned. “The diplomatic service lost a good man in you. No—much as I am tempted to classify myself with youth, the matter involves too damn’ much dressing and undressing. I shall remain, high and dry, on the shore.”

“Just as well, sir,” nodded Jessop. “It is already eight-fifteen, and the dinner hour is rapidly approaching. I shall be forced to summon them in shortly.”

Van Horn stared about the room. “What—no cocktails?”

“There has been a slight delay, sir. The gentleman who was to supply us with the raw material—the very raw material, between you and me, sir—has only just come. I was busy with the shaker when you rang.” He went over and stood by the French window opening on to the lanai. “You will find the ocean just out here, sir,” he explained.

Van Horn laughed, and stepped on to the lanai.