My chauffeur looked as though he was seeing a ghost.
“We thought you’d been kidnaped, sir — taken for a ride.”
“Nothing as exciting as that.”
He looked at me with something of wistfulness in his tired eyes.
“Gosh, it must be great to be able to duck out whenever you feel like an adventure. But they tell me there ain’t any real adventures left in the desert any more... Say, what’s that new stickpin you’ve got?”
He came closer.
“Looks like it was a gold bullet mounted on a pin!”
I shrugged my shoulders and turned to the papers.
I was reading of the breaking off of the engagement between Stella McRae, the leader of the younger set, and the wealthy broker, Ned Craleigh, when the chauffeur interrupted me again.
“By gosh, I’ll bet you’ve been places in the last three or four weeks.”
“And done things,” I echoed.