"
An evil grin broke through on the thin-lipped, cruel face.
CHAPTER XXVIII
IN BAD
When Bromfield suggested to Clay with a touch of stiffness that he
would be glad to show him a side of New York night life probably still
unfamiliar to him, the cattleman felt a surprise he carefully
concealed. He guessed that this was a belated attempt on the part of
Miss Whitford's fiance to overcome the palpable dislike he had for her
friend. If so, the impulse that inspired the offer was a creditable
one. Lindsay had no desire to take in any of the plague spots of the
city with Bromfield. Something about the society man set his back up,
to use his own phrase. But because this was true he did not intend to
be outdone in generosity by a successful rival. Promptly and heartily
he accepted the invitation. If he had known that a note and a card
from Jerry Durand lay in the vest pocket of his cynical host while he
was holding out the olive branch, it is probable the Arizonan would
have said, "No, thank you, kind sir."
The note mentioned no names. It said, "Wednesday, at Maddock's, 11
P.M. Show this card."
And to Maddock's, on Wednesday, at an hour something earlier than
eleven, the New Yorker led his guest after a call at one or two clubs.
Even from the outside the place had a dilapidated look that surprised
Lindsay. The bell was of that brand you keep pulling till you discover
it is out of order. Decayed gentility marked the neighborhood, though
the blank front of the houses looked impeccably respectable.
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