“I don’t like that,” complained the watchman. “It’s bad for my rheumatism. I don’t suppose that bothers you.”
“Not yet,” said Tom with a laugh, as he prepared to climb the stairs to Mr. Keen’s office, the elevator having stopped running.
He found a light burning in the outer room, where the telephone switchboard was, but Mr. Keen’s apartment was in darkness.
“He must be out,” thought Tom. “Well, I’ll leave the papers on his desk. But there’s a light in Mr. Cutler’s office. Maybe he’s in there.”
He started toward the door, but, before he could reach it the portal opened, and Mr. Cutler came out.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Tom sharply. “You have no right in here after office hours.”
“I have been on an errand for Mr. Keen,” replied Tom. “He told me to leave the answer on his desk.”
As he spoke he heard a noise of papers rattling in Mr. Cutler’s room, and he knew the lawyer must have a visitor. Mr. Cutler’s manner was strange. He seemed much annoyed at beholding Tom.
“Well,” he said, “leave the papers and then go home. We don’t want the office boys around here after hours.”
He turned to go back into his office, and, as he did so, the door swung more fully open. Tom caught a glimpse of a man, and, an instant later he saw that Mr. Cutler’s visitor was none other than Barton Sandow. Dr. Spidderkins’ brother-in-law uttered an exclamation, as he caught sight of Tom, and then the lawyer hastily closed the door, from behind which came the murmur of voices in eager, earnest conversation.