“As if I cared what is ‘done’ and what isn’t, if I want to help Sanford.”
“Go ahead, then, fair lady; but remember that Sanford Embury stands for the conservative element in our club, and anything you might try to do by virtue of your blandishments or fascinations would be frowned upon and would react against your cause instead of for it. If I might suggest, my supporters, the younger set, the—well—the gayer set, would more readily respond to such a plan. Why don’t you electioneer for me?”
Eunice disdained to reply, and Aunt Abby broke into the discussion by exclaiming: “Oh, Alvord, here comes Mr. Mortimer, and he has Mr. Hanlon with him!”
Sure enough the two heroes of the day were walking toward the Hendricks car, which, still standing near the scene of Hanlon’s triumph, awaited a good chance for a getaway.
“I wonder if you ladies wouldn’t like to meet this marvel,” began Mr. Mortimer, genially, and Aunt Abby’s delight was convincing, indeed.
Eunice, too, greeted Mr. Hanlon cordially, and Hendricks held out a welcoming hand.
“Tell us how you did it,” he said, smiling into the intelligent face of the mysterious “mind-reader.”
“You saw,” he returned, simply, with a slight gesture of out-turned palms, as if to disavow any secrets.
“Yes, I saw,” said Hendricks, “but with me, seeing is not believing.”
“Don’t listen, Hanlon,” Mr. Mortimer said, smiling a little resentfully. “That sort of talk would go before the test, but not now. What do you mean, Hendricks, by not believing? Do you suspect me of complicity?”