"Mr. Golden," said Roger wearily, "everything'll be all right to-morrow. If you worry me now maybe you'll never get your money. After to-morrow nothing'll matter."
Mr. Golden looked at the tenant uneasily. Young men sometimes did away with themselves when business went wrong. Then his eye fell unpleasantly on the initialled suitcase beside the desk.
"Going on a trip?" he asked pointedly.
"What? Oh, no. That's just some clothes."
"Clothes, eh? Well, Mr. Halsey, just to prove that you mean what you say, suppose you let me keep that suitcase until to-morrow noon."
"Help yourself."
Mr. Golden picked it up with a deprecatory gesture.
"Just a matter of form," he remarked.
"I understand," said Roger, swinging around to his desk. "Good afternoon."
Mr. Golden seemed to feel that the conversation should close on a softer key.