CHAPTER XVII

At a quarter past seven, when Dan Pritchard’s limousine drew up in front of the Hotel Del Monte, a white, flannel-clad figure heaved itself out of a chair on the porch, came down the steps and opened the door of the car. “Good evening, everybody,” he greeted Dan’s party. “Hello! Mel! You here!” Mellenger sighed. “One might glean the impression judging by your intonation, that I haven’t any right here,” he complained. “After leaving your office today I began to feel the downhill pull, so I jumped the two o’clock tra…