"Oh. Why, of course. But--it could never happen."

"Why?"

Palla said honestly: "One reason is because he wouldn't anyway."

"You must not be certain."

"I am. I'm absolutely certain."

Ilse gazed at her, then laughed and pressed her hand. "Are you cold?"

asked Palla.

"No."

"I thought I felt you shiver, dearest."

Ilse flushed and held out her arms for the sleeves of her fur coat, which Estridge was holding.

They went away together, leaving Palla alone with Shotwell, among the fading flowers.

[A] The ancient Slavonic Venus.

CHAPTER XV

"So," said Puma, "you are quite convinced he has much wealth. Yes?"

"You betcha," replied Elmer Skidder. "That pious guy has got all kinds of it. Why, Alonzo D. Pawling can buy you and me like we were two subway tickets and then forget which pocket he put us in."

"He also is a sport? Yes?"

"On the quiet. Oh, I got his number some years ago. Ran into him once in New York, where you used to knock three times and ring twice before they slid the panel on you."

"A bank president?"

"Did you ever know one that didn't?" grinned Skidder, inserting pearl studs in his shirt.

"It is very bad--for a shake-down," mused Puma, smoothing his glossy top hat with one of Skidder's silk m.u.f.flers.

"Aw, you can't scare Alonzo D. Pawling. Say, Angy, what dames have you commandeered?"

"I ask Barclay and West. Also, they got another--Vanna Brown."

"Pictures?"

"No, she has a friend."

Skidder continued to attire himself in an over-braided evening dress; Puma, seated behind him, gazed absently at his partner's features reflected in the looking gla.s.s.

"A theatre on Broadway," he mused. "You say he has seemed interested, Elmer?"

"He didn't run away screaming."

"How did he behave?"

"Well, it's hard to size up Alonzo D. Pawling. He's a fly guy, Angy.

What a man says at a little supper for four, with a peach pulling his Depews and a good looker sticking gardenias in his b.u.t.tonhole, ain't what he's likely to say next day in your office."

"You have accompany him to Broadway and you have shown him the parcel?"

"I sure did."

"You explain how we can not lose out? You mention the option?"

Skidder cast aside his white tie and tried another, constructed on the b.u.t.terfly plan.

"I put the whole thing up to him," he said. "No use stalling with Alonzo D. Pawling. I know him too well. So I let out straight from the shoulder, and he knows the scheme we've got in mind and he knows we want his money in it. That's how it stands to-night."

Puma nodded and softly joined his over-manicured finger-tips:

"We give him a good time," he said. "We give him a little dinner like there never was in New York. Yes?"

"You betcha."

"Barclay is a devil. You think she please him?"

"Alonzo D. Pawling is some bird himself," remarked Skidder, picking up his hat and turning to Puma, who rose with lithe briskness, put on his hat, and began to pull at his white gloves.

They went down to the street, where Puma's car was waiting.

"I stop at the office a moment," he said, as they entered the limousine. "You need not get out, Elmer."

At the studio he descended, saying to Skidder that he'd be back in a moment.

But it was very evident when he entered his office that he had not expected to find Max Sondheim there; and he hesitated on the threshold, his white-gloved hand still on the door-k.n.o.b.

"Come in, Puma; I want to see you," growled Sondheim, retaining his seat but pocketing _The Call_, which he had been reading.

"To-morrow," said Puma coolly; "I have no time----"

"No, _now_!" interrupted Sondheim.

They eyed each other for a moment in silence, then Puma shrugged:

"Very well," he said. "But be quick, if you please----"