CHAPTER THIRTEENNight Life
By nine o’clock the Gamadges were nearing the end of their dinner, at the round table beside the window in the library. Malcolm was announced, came in, and said with an avid look at Gamadge that he had come for coffee.
“Yes, and for news,” said Clara. “Perhaps he’ll give you some. It must be very bad, because he has that gloomy look and won’t open his mouth except to eat.”
“And drink.” Gamadge swallowed whisky.
“He’s been drinking whisky right through dinner,” said Clara.
“To tell you the truth I came for whisky,” said Malcolm, sitting down next to Clara. “I thought you’d be done with dinner long ago.”
“We never sat down until twenty minutes to nine. I don’t know where he was.”
Gamadge said: “Tell you all about it later. I may have to go out again, and if
