Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. Then he stood up and repeated it again. You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. “Have you killed recently?” He was curious, scared. She opened and read it at once. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know.
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