Doyle removed the remaining garments from the bed. Then, walking quickly to the desk, he picked up the letter, and thrust it into his pocket.
“Don’t let me interrupt you if you’re busy,” Flash remarked.
“I was only writing a letter to a pal. I’ll finish it another time.”
The bellboy pocketed Flash’s tip and left the two together. A constrained silence settled between them. Flash began to unpack his shirts and socks.
“Staying long in Columbia?” Doyle inquired after an awkward moment.
“A day or two, perhaps.”
Flash spoke shortly. Doyle glanced at him curiously, aware that for some reason he was offended.
For the next few minutes the technician made a special effort to be agreeable. Flash could not respond. He felt that the man’s sudden friendliness was only a pose.
“Doyle has no honor,” he thought. “Instead of being loyal to Joe, he’s scheming to install a friend in his job. Between them they’ll arrange it so that Joe never does get his place back again.”
The telephone jingled. Doyle answered, and learning that a telegram had arrived for him, ordered it sent up.