McNew snorted. “Oh! it’s good enough, in one way,” he admitted. “I’ve been joshing you to a certain extent. If I had been sure the story was a plain fake, I would have printed it this morning. But I wasn’t sure! I have information from—well, from abroad—that makes me think that maybe you’re right. That’s why I held it up last night. That’s why I came down here today. And that’s why you’re going to come with me and meet the young woman who I hope will help to solve the problem.” He drew out his watch and glanced at it. “It’s eight o’clock,” he noted; “and I wired her that we would call at eight thirty. So get your hat and come along.”
CHAPTER XVIII
For the twentieth time Miss Eleanor Byrd peered out of the second story front window, and turned back with a sigh to where her aunt sat in the soft glow of the lamp.
“What can he want, auntie? What can he want?” she repeated, also for the twentieth time.
The elder Miss Byrd did not speak for an instant. “I hope he doesn’t want anything,” she burst out at last. “I wish you had never written to him. It is bad enough that your sister should be connected with that awful paper of his—”
“Now, auntie!” Nellie’s eyes danced. “Now, auntie, did you ever see a copy of the Gazette in your life? Honestly, now?”
Miss Byrd flushed—a lovely pink flush, like that of a Dresden shepherdness grown old. “Of course not,” she answered indignantly. “Of course not. Your grandfather would never allow me to read papers of that sort—”
“Of what sort, auntie,” innocently.
“Of that sort,” returned Miss Byrd decisively. “It’s terrible that Lillian should write for it. No one who conducts a paper like that can be a gentleman! Look what the President has said about him! He has branded him as undesirable—undesirable—and my own niece writes to such a man. And he ventures to telegraph—telegraph—to make an appointment with her.”
Nellie laughed softly. She began to say something; then jumped up and ran to the window and peered out behind the edge of the blind. An instant later she came back.