Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/55

“What? Oh, yes—I suppose so. Have you any cigarettes here? My case is empty.”

Jessop proffered a box containing cigarettes, and taking one, Ballou dropped into a chair. The butler officiated with a match, then retired to the kitchen.

Returning fifteen minutes later, he found the Honolulu man sitting just as he had left him.

“Things are getting rather serious, sir,” Jessop remarked. He carried a large dinner gong. “I had always supposed, from my reading, that the Chinese are a notably patient race.”

“They have that reputation, yes,” nodded Ballou.

“Their representative in our kitchen, sir, is doing nothing to sustain it,” Jessop sighed. “He informs me with great passion that dinner is waiting. I'll just go down to the shore and see what this will do.” He nodded toward the gong and disappeared. Presently he could be heard in the distance, beating a not unmusical tattoo.

Ballou lighted a fresh cigarette. Jessop returned, and at his heels came Rita Ballou and Van Horn.

“You should have stayed, Wilkie,” Rita said. “I’ve just been getting all the latest Hollywood gossip.”

“I’m not interested,” Ballou growled.“Poor Wilkie,” his wife smiled. “It’s close to his bedtime, and he hasn’t even had his dinner. Cheer up. It won’t be long now.”

Diana Dixon arrived, quite out of breath. “I suppose we’re late,” she cried. “You should have been in with us. It was glorious—but not half long enough. I could have stayed for hours. Cocktails—that’s an idea.”

She took one from the tray which Jessop held be-