The chief nodded happily and said:

“I’ll leave it in your hands, Mac. Going to poke around here, or going back to the Hall with me?” he asked me.

“Neither. I’ve got a date, and I want to get into dry shoes.”

Dinah Brand’s little Marmon was standing in front of the hotel. I didn’t see her. I went up to my room, leaving the door unlocked. I had got my hat and coat off when she came in without knocking.

“My God, you keep a boozy smelling room,” she said.

“It’s my shoes. Noonan took me wading in rum.”

She crossed to the window, opened it, sat on the sill, and asked:

“What was that for?”