For the present, however, she had finished with him. She rose now above the fence and gave a long, clear whistle. Instantly the two men stopped talking.
"No more time to-day, boys." Black Tom answered the whistle with two short notes and Katya opened the gate.
"I say, you're not going to let the thing hang in mid-air, are you?" one of the men demanded belligerently. "You think you've got the whole thing in your own pocket. Well, you haven't. The rest of us——"
"Get out," Tom thundered. "Neither of you has a suggestion worth listening to. I tell you we're not ready yet. You're like a lot of kids with firecrackers, can't wait till the Fourth to make your little splutter. I'm not going to fight just for the sake of fighting."
"You tin Czar——"
"Get out."
The men banged out of the loft and Katya led Roger over to Black Tom.
"Roger Barton."
The big man stared at him, still concerned with the others, until Katya laid a hand on his arm and drew him back to the present.
"Hilary Wainwright's secretary. Sent out those invitations." They smiled at each other, and Roger bristled. The courtesy of these people was an extraordinary thing. "He's left and wants to talk to you." Like a nurse delivering her charge, Katya clumped away.