“I expected you to say that,” he said. “Still, don’t be sentimental about it. Nobody can tell now what will happen. We shall be in the hands of the court. Well, as you like. I have an appointment to keep with counsel. I may not be back today.”
He departed abruptly.
It occurred to me to go about the offices to see what effect the news was having. That would be something to do. Harbinger, leaning over his desk on his elbows, his head clutched in his two hands, was looking at three models of his stamping device.
“How do they take it?”
“Take what?” he asked, not looking up.
“The news.”
“Oh, that! I don’t know. Go ask them yourself.”
John Harrier was sitting precisely as I saw him that first time, perfectly still, staring at an empty desk.
“Well, it appears we are busted,” I said.
“We’ve been busted for about nine months,” he answered, without moving his head. “But now two and two make four again. Thank God, I say. I couldn’t make her look solvent any longer. Arithmetic wouldn’t stand it, and it stands a lot.”