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Had he known it was Christmas night perhaps he might not have disturbed you. But will you come?" "I am afraid it is too late to-night." "Tomorrow, then? Shall I tell him?" There was a silence. She repeated the question. But Graylock's reply was inaudible and she thought he said good-bye instead of good night.
Graylock's securities, and the suspicion that for a brief time had fallen on his shoulders, it almost unmanned the messenger, so that there were actually tears in his eyes as he looked straight at Mr. Gibbs and said as resolutely as he could: "Yes, sir; I would do anything for you."
She gazed at him in amazement, then: "I could go out on the street, too, as far as that is concerned. It would be no more disgraceful." "Folk-ways sanction self-sale, when guaranteed by the clergy," he said. She turned her head and he saw the pure, cold profile against the golden table-lamp, and he saw something else under the palms beyond Graylock's light eyes riveted upon them both.
He's doing the groups for the new opera for us." Quair, watching Graylock, was seized with a malicious impulse: "Neat little skirt he has up there that White girl," he remarked, seating himself on Graylock's polished table. A dull flush stained Graylock's cheekbones, and his keen eyes turned on Quair.
You see his father was opposed to his getting that motor-cycle, for he said it would be just like Ferd to have an accident, and perhaps get his neck broken. And to tell the truth, a little later on if nothing else turns up I mean to try and get work in Mr. Graylock's store. It's a busy place, and he might give me a chance.
A servant asked her to hold the wire. After an interval she recognized Graylock's voice at the telephone, pleasant, courteous, serenely wishing her the happiness of the season. "What are you doing this Christmas night?" she asked. "Surely you are not all alone there at home?" "I am rather too old for anything else," he said. "But what are you doing? Reading?"
Graylock's worn eyes rested on the outline of the shrouded weapon: he stood eyeing it absently for a moment, then seated himself on the sofa, his heavy eyes shifting from one object to another.
Dick, he begged me not to say a word to any one in the bank, but I told him I must take you into my confidence, since we were working this thing together. He also declared that your suspicions might be well founded, and that he would take measures to investigate the interior of Mr. Graylock's home without that gentleman's knowledge." Then light suddenly burst in upon Dick.
Accordingly, having this uneasy feeling in connection with Mr. Graylock's vindictive animosity, Dick was put on his guard one day when the cashier sent him with a note to the department store. He had not been in it since that day when Pliny told him about the talk between Archibald Graylock and the cashier.
"He's mad about her. He's abject. It's no secret among his friends. Men like that and of that age sometimes arrive at such a terminal men with Graylock's record sometimes get theirs. She has given him a run, believe me, and he's brought up with a crash against a stone wall. He is lying there all doubled up at her feet like a rabbit with a broken back.
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