Abruptly she said, “We’ll write it this way: ‘Dear Donald: Bertha is quite busy this afternoon, but she’s taking time out, just the same, to write you a long letter to cheer you up, because Bertha knows how it is with persons who are in the armed forces. They get lonely for letters from people who love them.’ Now, Elsie, you can make a paragraph there, and then go on: ‘There isn’t very much to tell you about except what’s going on in the business, but because you must miss having problems to which you can turn your mind, I’m going to tell you about a very interesting case that’s in the office now.’ ”
Bertha paused long enough to think that over, then smiled beaming satisfaction. “That’s the angle,” she said to Elsie Brand. “That gives me an opportunity to tell him all about it without putting myself under any obligations to him, and he’ll make some suggestions. You can bet on that.”
“Suppose he doesn’t?” Elsie Brand asked.
“Well, I’ll put right in the letter,” Bertha said, “that he should wire me any ideas he may have. Of course, I won’t use exactly those words. I’ll tell him that if he wants me to keep him posted on what’s happening in the case so he’ll have something to think about, he can send me a wire, giving me his ideas, and I’ll write him again and let him know about developments.”
Elsie Brand looked at her wrist watch, “If the letter is going to be long,” she said, “perhaps you’d better dictate it directly to the typewriter if you want it to get into the mail this evening.”
“Want it to get in the mail!” Bertha Cool exclaimed. “I’d send the damn thing by wire if it didn’t cost too much. All right, Elsie, let’s go out to your typewriter. And here’s a Photostat of the will which I’m going to include in the letter, too. I got three extra copies for the office.”
Chapter X
The tall, well-dressed man who spoke in the quietly modulated tones of a college graduate approached Elsie Brand’s desk.
The briefcase which he carried in his right hand was a creation of heavy black leather and gleaming brass. The hand which rested lightly upon the corner of Elsie Brand’s desk was soft, well kept, the nails neatly manicured and highly polished.
“Mrs. Cool?” he inquired with just the right rising inflection of culture.