“Mr. Jefferson asked us to call,” explained Frank.
“He is expecting you,” said the woman. “You will please come in.”
They stepped into a gloomy hall and the housekeeper ushered them toward a reception room.
“Please be good enough to wait,” she said stiffly. “Mr. Jefferson is engaged at present.”
Then she went away, her skirts swishing.
Frank and Joe Hardy sat uncomfortably on the extreme edges of their chairs and looked at the enormous family portraits on the walls. They could hear voices from a living room beyond. At first they could not distinguish anything that was being said—not that they listened—there being a mere hum of conversation, but suddenly one of the men in the next room raised his voice, sharply:
“I don’t see why you won’t sell, Mr. Jefferson! I offer a good price.”
It was evident that the speaker was angry and perturbed.
Then, in another voice, also raised, came the reply:
“The island is not for sale at any price, Mr. Hanleigh, and that settles it.”