CHAPTER THIRTEENRequest Number
It was a well-proportioned, pretty room, done in pale red and silver, very modern. The french windows were screened against the rainy night with silvered reed blinds; Gamadge realized that the celebrated garden must be beyond them. It was a big garden, running back from the parking lot to the next street. A good place to sit between dances on a pleasant night.
The small stage at the far end of the room was already lighted, and the tables that ringed the dance floor were well-filled. They were comfortably spaced, too; the Stanton was not fashionable enough to pack the people in.
It was early, and there were still some empty places. Gamadge was seated (at his own request) to the left of the doorway, at the rear of the room. He ordered a drink, and surveyed t
