CHAPTER EIGHTEENHarold Does Very Well
“Leave the bags here until later,” said Gamadge. He and Harold had breakfasted, and now stood in the Biltmore lobby; it was a quarter past nine o’clock. “Go up to the house by subway,” continued Gamadge. “Watch your chance, and get in by the basement door. Be in the laboratory; and remember, you haven’t been away.”
“Won’t Theodore spill it?”
“Theodore will say nothing. Durfee isn’t interested in your activities and won’t ask about them—we hope.”
Harold said, rather awkwardly: “You don’t have to keep me out of it.”
“I have to keep everybody out of it. I’m not doing you any favour.”
Harold walked off. Gamadge left by another door, got his car, and drove it to Park Avenue; he went northward and then east, arriving at his house on the stroke of nine-
