"Indeed! Well, permit me to say, Mr. Westcott, that I choose my own
friends, and am perfectly competent to defend my own character. This
closes our acquaintanceship."

She moved about the end of the table, and touched Beaton's sleeve with
her fingers.

"Would you escort me to the foot of the stairs?" she asked, her voice
softening. "We will leave this belligerent individual to his own
company."

Neither of them glanced back, the girl still speaking as they
disappeared, but Westcott turned in his chair to watch them cross the
room. He had no sense of anger, no desire to retaliate, but he felt
dazed and as though the whole world was suddenly turned upside down.
So she really belonged with that outfit, did she? Well, it was a good
joke on him.

The waitress spoke to him twice before he was sufficiently aroused to
give his order.




CHAPTER XI: DEAD OR ALIVE

Before Westcott finished his meal his mood had changed to tolerant
amusement. That the girl had deliberately deceived him was plain,
enough, revealed now in both her manner and words. What her true