"It's not so bad as I thought." Then turning again to his secretary he asked:
"Well, Bagley, what is it?"
"There's a lady downstairs, sir—Miss Shirley Green."
The financier half sprang from his seat.
"Oh, yes. Show her up at once. Good-bye, sergeant, good-bye. Find that
Rossmore woman and the $1,000 is yours."
The detective went out and a few moments later Mr. Bagley reappeared ushering in Shirley.
The mouse was in the den of the lion.
CHAPTER XII
Mr. Ryder remained at his desk and did not even look up when his visitor entered. He pretended to be busily preoccupied with his papers, which was a favourite pose of his when receiving strangers. This frigid reception invariably served its purpose, for it led visitors not to expect more than they got, which usually was little enough. For several minutes Shirley stood still, not knowing whether to advance or to take a seat. She gave a little conventional cough, and Ryder looked up. What he saw so astonished him that he at once took from his mouth the cigar he was smoking and rose from his seat. He had expected a gaunt old maid with spectacles, and here was a stylish, good-looking young woman, who could not possibly be over twenty-five. There was surely some mistake. This slip of a girl could not have written "The American Octopus." He advanced to greet Shirley.
"You wish to see me, Madame?" he asked courteously. There were times when even John Burkett Ryder could be polite.