The door opened, and she heard Mr. Spragg say behind her: "No, sir, I won't—that's final."
He came in alone, with a brooding face, and lowered himself heavily into his chair. It was plain that the talk between the two men had had an abrupt ending. Undine looked at her father with a passing flicker of curiosity. Certainly it was an odd coincidence that Moffatt should have called while she was there…
"What did he want?" she asked, glancing back toward the door.
Mr. Spragg mumbled his invisible toothpick. "Oh, just another of his wild-cat schemes—some real-estate deal he's in."
"Why did he come to YOU about it?"
He looked away from her, fumbling among the letters on the desk. "Guess he'd tried everybody else first. He'd go and ring the devil's front-door bell if he thought he could get anything out of him."
"I suppose he did himself a lot of harm by testifying in the Ararat investigation?"
"Yes, SIR—he's down and out this time."
He uttered the words with a certain satisfaction. His daughter did not answer, and they sat silent, facing each other across the littered desk. Under their brief about Elmer Moffatt currents of rapid intelligence seemed to be flowing between them. Suddenly Undine leaned over the desk, her eyes widening trustfully, and the limpid smile flowing up to them.
"Father, I did what you wanted that one time, anyhow—won't you listen to me and help me out now?"