It's not stamped; I presume
you sent it round by hand of the future President of the United
States whom you now employ as office-boy. And O'Hagan didn't
forward it for that reason."
* * * * *
"Important, eh? I'm only in for the night--"
* * * * *
"Then come and dine with me at the Primordial. I'll put the others
off."
* * * * *
"Good enough. In an hour, then? Good-by." Hanging up the receiver,
Maitland waited a few moments ere again putting it to his ear.
This time he called up Sherry's, asked for the head-waiter, and,
requested that person to be kind enough to make his excuses to
"Mr. Cressy and his party": he, Maitland, was detained upon a
matter of moment, but would endeavor to join them at a later hour.
Then, with a satisfied smile, he turned away, with purpose to
dispose of Bannerman's note.
"Bath's ready, sor."
O'Hagan's announcement fell upon heedless ears. Maitland remained
motionless before the desk--transfixed with amazement.
"Bath's ready, sor!"--imperatively.
Maitland roused slightly.
"Very well; in a minute, O'Hagan."
Yet for some time he did not move. Slowly the heavy brows
contracted over intent eyes as he strove to puzzle it out. At
length his lips moved noiselessly.
"Am I awake?" was the question he put his consciousness.
Wondering, he bent forward and drew the tip of one forefinger
across the black polished wood of the writing-bed.
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