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"They'll have to give us the usual five-day cancellation notice," he returned, blandly. "And payment will be made before the five days lapse." Fred hung up the phone and cursed audibly. Of course a day or two or three wouldn't have made any difference ordinarily. But there was that damn check out to Brauer. Well, he had told Brauer to hold it until Friday. There was still another day.
Brauer's office, and the electric light, turned on early this dark afternoon, shone full in his handsome, clean-shaven face. Susan had some bills that she had planned to show to Mr. Brauer this afternoon. Six months ago she would have taken them in to him at once, and been glad of the excuse. But now she dropped her eyes, and busied herself with her work.
The situation there had come to a crisis. The old Count of Isenberg died. His successor, Gustavus Friedrich, was a weak-minded man; the agent, Brauer, detested the Brethren; and now Brauer laid down the condition that the settlers at Herrnhaag must either break off their connection with Zinzendorf or else abandon the premises. They chose the latter course.
Suppose you were taken ill. It doesn't look right for a firm to go about making attempts to collect premiums that have been paid." "Well ... you're pretty previous, Starratt, dogging folks in March for money that isn't due until May," Brauer grumbled back. "What's the idea, anyway?" Starratt leaned forward. "Just this, Brauer.
About once a month she was carried off by the Saunders, in whose perfectly appointed guest-room she was by this time quite at home. The Fourth of July fell on a Friday this year, and Mr. Brauer, of his own volition, offered Susan the following day as a holiday, too.
And now he would have to trail about collecting his commissions instead of merely withholding them from the remittance that should have been put in his hand. Still, on second thought, he did feel relieved to know that the matter wouldn't drag on any longer that he wouldn't have to ask Brauer to hold off with his bank deposit another moment.
Brauer turned a face of amazed and insolent incredulity toward Fred. "Well, you won't get it from me!" he flung back. Fred Starratt grasped Brauer's puny wrist in a ferocious grip. "Oh yes, I will... Do you know who I am?" "You? ... No... Let me go; you're hurting me!" "Look at me closely!" "I tell you I don't know you. Are you crazy?"
Susan caught a glimpse, through the plaster ornamentation of the facade, of old Front Office, which seemed to be full of brightly nickeled samples now, and gave back a blinking flash of light to the afternoon sun. "Bathroom fixtures," thought Susan. "He always wanted to carry them!" What a long two years since she had known or cared what pleased or displeased Mr. Brauer!
After all, it was diverting to wait for his ex-partner's next move. Brauer had had no compunctions in tricking him. Why, then, should he worry? No, it would be fun just to let Brauer stew in a sample of his own Teutonic duplicity. He felt a relief at Helen's absence from the office. He had never wanted her there and he was determined not to have her back.
If any judge is willing to convict me on my intentions I'll go to jail gladly. It seems to me that it ought to be easy enough to prove that I gave that check to Brauer with every prospect in the world that I could cover it. He tricked me, really." "Yes, but how can you prove it?" "Why, there's my wife. She heard every bit of the " "My dear man, you're not going to drag her into this mess, I hope.
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