Chapter 24

“Ah, our guest has arrived,” he said. His voice was soft as velvet, yet it carried an irritating quality that was thin-edged and biting, and scarcely concealed. “Step right up, Mr. Waring; dinner will be served at once. Wong, the wine.” From somewhere the Chinese, Wong, had glided forth and, drawing out a chair, indicated Ross’s place at the table. Immediately he had filled the glasses with a sparkling liquid. Ross recognized it as champagne. There was no chance to reply. In fact, Ross was too bewildered to think o…