Armitage had not sought Shirley again. He found a room that had
been set apart for smokers, threw himself into a chair, lighted a cigar
and stared at a picture that had no interest for him whatever. He put
down his cigar after a few whiffs, and his hand went to the pocket in
which he had usually carried his cigarette case.
"Ah, Mr. Armitage, may I offer you a cigarette?"
He turned to find Chauvenet close at his side. He had not heard the man
enter, but Chauvenet had been in his thoughts and he started slightly at
finding him so near. Chauvenet held in his white-gloved hand a gold
cigarette case, which he opened with a deliberate care that displayed its
embellished side. The smooth golden surface gleamed in the light, the
helmet in blue, and the white falcon flashed in Armitage's eyes. The
meeting was clearly by intention, and a slight smile played about
Chauvenet's lips in his enjoyment of the situation. Armitage smiled up at
him in amiable acknowledgment of his courtesy, and rose.
"You are very considerate, Monsieur. I was just at the moment regretting
our distinguished host's oversight in providing cigars alone.
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