CHAPTER FIFTEENPerfection
Gamadge slept very late. Theodore, serving him his breakfast in the library, said that the telephone had been ringing a good deal.
“But I read your sign on my do’, and I didn’t answer.”
“That’s right. Never mind the newspapers yet, I’m not even going to look at them till my coffee begins to take hold.”
It took hold while he was smoking his first cigarette, and he spread out the late city editions and glanced through them. Osterbridge had not made the front page, but city editors had decided, late as the news of his death had come in, that it was picturesque enough to catch the morning news:
CROONER SHOOTS SELF WHILE BAND PLAYS
There was no mention of Mrs. Tanner’s party, of Bishop’s conversation with Gamadge behind the scenes, of any anonymous telephone call
