“Why, no less a personage than your father—John Burkett Ryder himself! Everybody says it's he—the press and everybody that's read it. He says so himself.”
“Really?” he exclaimed with well-simulated surprise. “I must read it.”
“It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder,” chimed in Mr. Bagley. “I never knew him to be so interested in a book before. He's trying his best to find out who the author is. It's a jolly well written book and raps you American millionaires jolly well—what?”
“Whoever wrote the book,” interrupted Kate, “is somebody who knows Mr. Ryder exceedingly well. There are things in it that an outsider could not possibly know.”
“Phew!” Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He was treading dangerous ground. To conceal his embarrassment, he rose.
“If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects upstairs. I'll see you again,” He gave Kate a friendly nod, and without even glancing at Mr. Bagley left the room.
The couple stood in silence for a few moments after he disappeared. Then Kate went to the door and listened to his retreating footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of earshot she turned on Mr. Bagley indignantly.
“You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was a rendezvous.”
“Well, it was to a certain extent,” replied the secretary unabashed. “Didn't you ask me to see you here?”