Big Sam looked thoughtfully at me for more than a minute before he spoke.
"That was a phase of the problem I had not considered," he said slowly. "I had forgotten that yours is not the ruling sex in the white race." Big Sam's voice was innocent of sarcasm, and he appeared to be considering an impersonal problem.
"If you want to get your girl, I advise you to see Miss Kendrick yourself," I said.
Big Sam looked at me gravely.
"I should not venture to be so rude to Mr. Kendrick as to look upon the women of his household," he said with a trace of rebuke in his tone; yet I felt that this oriental excuse was but a pretense. "I am sure," he added, with a significant glance, "that I could not have a better advocate than the one I send."
Something in the tone rather than in the words sent the blood to my face, and in some confusion I rose.
"An advocate who speaks against his judgment is not likely to be of much value," I said.
"And you a lawyer!" he exclaimed. He rose and accompanied me to the door, then halted and stamped three times on the floor. "I had almost forgotten," he said with an enigmatic smile.
As he spoke there was again the rumbling as of a heavy table moved across the floor.
"Forgotten what?" was my natural inquiry.