“I understand,” Elsie said.
“Okay.”
Bertha dropped the receiver into place, said to Belder, “Nunnely’s been telephoning my office, very anxious to get in touch with me; says it’s about a proposition I made him yesterday; told my secretary to rush that message through to me.”
Belder became excited. “That means he’s going to accept, Mrs. Cool. I knew he would. I knew that—”
“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Bertha said. “He’s a poker-faced gambler. He’s probably going to make me some counter proposition. You heard what I told my secretary, not to seem too eager, in case he called up before I could get him. What’s his number? I’ll give him a ring.”
Belder pushed back his chair, walked to the door which led to the outer office, said, “Imogene, get the number of Nunnelly’s office right away, dial that number and then put Mrs. Cool on the line just as soon as you have dialled. Don’t let them hear your voice over the telephone.” He came back to his desk, “Cigarette?” he asked Bertha, reaching nervously for a package.
“Not now,” Bertha said. “Not if I’m going to telephone... Suppose he wants to boost the ante, what do I tell him?”
“Tell him — tell him you’ll call him back but that you don’t think it’s any use to come back with any counter-proposal, that you’ve offered all you can afford to pay.”
Belder scraped a match into flame and his hand shook as he conveyed the match to the cigarette. “I can’t begin to tell you what it will mean to get that matter off my mind, Mrs. Cool. I made the most awful, the most ghastly mistake a man ever made. I—”
The short, sharp ring of the telephone interrupted him.