"That would be up to me. It isn't what you can do but what I'm looking for that matters in a case like this." He stood up. "I'm sorry I must go back to a conference inside, but I shall see you soon again. What's your address in New York?"
Tom gave him the name of the hotel at which he was putting up. Whitelaw had never heard of it.
"Can't you do better than that?"
"Oh, it isn't bad, sir. I'm not used to luxury, and I manage very well. I'm quite all right."
"Is it money?"
"Only in the sense that everything is money. I've a little saved—not much—and I like to keep on the weather side of it. The man who did more for me than anybody else—the ex-burglar I told you about—always taught me to be economical."
"All the same I don't like to have you staying in a place like that. You must let me—"
"Oh, no, sir! I'd a great deal rather not." He spoke in some alarm. "I've got to be on my own. I must be."
"Oh, very well!"
The tone was not precisely cold; it was that of a man whose good intentions were sensitive. Tom did something which he never had supposed he would have dared to do. He went up to this man, and laid his hand gently on his arm. Instantly the man's free hand was laid on the one which touched him, welcoming the caress. Tom tried to explain himself.