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Hartridge's sitting-room, as they had been all night, according to the statement of the night-porter; so now, suspecting that something was wrong, he came up with us, and rang the bell and battered at the door. Then, as there was still no sign of life within, he inserted his duplicate key and tried to open the door unsuccessfully, however, as it proved to be bolted on the inside.
And if so, about how much, in round figures, would Hartridge be willing to put up? He must know this in advance because he was prepared to match Hartridge's investment dollar for dollar. And at that Hartridge, to Marr's most sincere discomfiture, shook his head. "I'll tell you how it is with me," said Hartridge. "These broker fellows downtown have been touchin' me up purty hard.
For Marr suddenly to hail a man he was supposed not to know might be fatal; almost surely at this critical moment it would stir up suspicion in Hartridge's mind. Yet some way, somehow, at once, he must stop the word bearer. But how? That was it how? Ah, he had it! In the fraction of a moment he had it.
Ah, here comes the porter, intent, no doubt, on pumping us, whereas " He smiled genially at the approaching custodian, and asked: "Where did you say those houses fronted?" "Cotman Street, sir," answered the porter. "They are nearly all offices." "And the numbers? That open second-floor window, for instance?" "That is number six; but the house opposite Mr. Hartridge's rooms is number eight."
"Yes, it has, unfortunately. But we wished to see if anything could be done for the widow and the children during Hartridge's lifetime. No doubt, my client's daughter, Miss Curtis, called last night on a similar mission very indiscreetly, since the matter was in our hands; but, you know, she is engaged to Edmund Hartridge and I expect the interview was a pretty stormy one."
The pause, naturally spaced, which fell between Hartridge's 'bout-faced concession and Marr's reply, was not unduly lengthened, yet in that flash of time Marr had analyzed the puzzle of the situation and had found the answer to it. "Bully, Hartridge!" he exclaimed. "You'll never regret it. Our man ought to be here any minute now.... By Jove!
With a vicious little slam she stuck a metal plug into its proper hole. Marr had not the least idea what concern or what individual owned Worth 10,000 for a telephone number. Nor did it concern him now. Even so, he must of course carry out the pretense which so well had served him in the emergency. He entered the booth, leaving the door open for Hartridge's benefit.
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