"What!" He started. "And what is your business with me, sir?" he went on sharply.
"I would like to see you in private," and I glanced at the clerk and several others who were staring at us.
"Come to my office," he returned, and led the way through a door at one side, into a handsomely furnished apartment facing the side street.
"Ross, you can post the letters," he said to a clerk who was writing at a desk. "Be back in half an hour."
It was a hint that we were to be left alone, and the clerk was not long in gathering up the letters that had been written, and leaving.
"I suppose Woodward sent you," began Chris Holtzmann, when we were seated.
This remark nearly took away my breath. I thought he would deny all knowledge of having ever known the merchant, and here he was mentioning the man at the very start.
I hardly knew how to reply, and he continued:&—
"I've been expecting him for several days."
"Well, you know there was an accident on the railroad," I began as coolly as I could. "The bridge shifted and the trains couldn't run."