"How are you ?" "I guess I'd be the better for a drink," Pritchard declared.

"Come along.

Pretty well done up the other night, weren't we?
We'll step into the American Bar here and try a gin fizz." They found themselves presently perched upon two high stools in a deserted corner of the bar to which Pritchard had led the way.

Tavernake sipped his drink tentatively.
"I should like," he said, "to ask you a question or two about Wednesday night." Pritchard nodded.
"Go right ahead," he invited.
"You seem to take the whole affair as a sort of joke," Tavernake remarked.
"Well, isn't that what it was ?" the detective asked, smiling.
Tavernake shrugged his shoulders.
"There didn't seem to me to be much joke about it!" he exclaimed.
Pritchard laughed gayly.
"You are not used to Americans, my young friend," he said.

"Over on this side you are all so fearfully literal.