“The devil it is!” cried Storey, making a dash past Doddridge Knapp and coming with a rush straight for me.
“Stop him!” roared my employer.
I sprang forward and grappled Mr. Storey, but I found him rather a large contract, for I had to favor my left arm. Then he suddenly turned limp and rolled to the floor, his head thumping noisily on a corner of the desk.
Doddridge Knapp coolly laid a hard rubber ruler down on the desk, and I recognized the source of Mr. Storey's discomfiture.
“I reckon he's safe for a bit,” he growled. “Hullo, what's this?”
I noted a very pale young man in the doorway of the secretary's office, apparently doubtful whether he should attempt to raise an alarm or hide.
“You go back in your room and mind your own business, Dodson,” said the King of the Street. “Go!” he growled fiercely, as the young man still hesitated. “You know I can make or break you.”
The young man disappeared, and I closed and locked the door on him.
“There they come,” said I, as steps sounded in the hall.
“Stand by the door and keep them out,” whispered my employer. “I'll see that Storey doesn't get up. Keep still now. Every minute we gain is worth ten thousand dollars.”