“You'll have to find something. I have a military order.”
Having read it the man returned the slip of paper. “That's different. You're here on Government business—for the same purpose as these other gentlemen, I take it?”
Hindwood replied non-committally. “Yes, on Government business.”
“In that case I'll give you a room in the basement—a servant's, my last. It's all I have to offer.”
“But two rooms are necessary. I have my secretary with me—this lady.”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “To demand the impossible is useless. To-morrow—who knows? If things happen, I may be able to give you more rooms than you require. For the present...”
Seeing that nothing was to be gained by arguing, Hindwood consented to the arrangement.
“The room will be my secretary's. If you'll lend me blankets, I'll find a place in the passage.”
The room proved to be poor in the extreme—nothing but four bare walls and an iron cot. When he had turned the key he tiptoed over to Santa.
“What's this monstrous thing for which they're waiting—this something that may happen to-morrow?”