So they walked back these two, as they had come, in silence.
Chapter Nine.
“Number One.”
Gilbert Warren, attorney-at-law, was seated in his office looking out upon the main street of Gydisdorp.
He was an alert, straight, well-set-up man, not much on the further side of thirty, handsome, too, in the dark-haired, somewhat hatchet-faced aquiline type. He was attired in a cool, easy-fitting suit of white duck, for the day had been hot, and still wore his broad-brimmed hat, for he had only just come in.
Now he unlocked a drawer in his table, somewhat hastily, impatiently might almost have been said. Thence he extracted a bundle of documents, and began eagerly to peruse them. Among them were deeds of mortgage.
“A damn rotten place,” he said to himself. “These fools have got bitten this time, and serves ’em right. I advised them against touching it. Now to me it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind dropping a little on it to get him out. If I take it over, why then he’ll have to go—and it’s worth it. I will—Come in.”
This in reply to a knock. A clerk entered.