He chuckled and thumped himself vigorously, as though to assure himself of the thoroughness of his recuperation. Seven o’clock found him on the street walking vigorously in the direction of the Park. He knew that there was no chance of meeting Jane Loring at this hour of the morning, but he chose the west side that he might not even see the marble mass where she was sleeping, for the memory of what had happened there yesterday rankled like an angry wound.
He breakfasted at the Cosmos at eight, and before nine was at the office where he finished the morning mail before even Tooker and the clerks were aware of his presence there. There were many threads of the Sanborn case still at a loose end and he spent a long while writing and dictating to his stenographer, who was still at his side, when, at about eleven o’clock, the office boy brought in Nina Jaffray’s card.
He was still looking at it when Nina entered.
“I was afraid you might be busy, Phil,” she said calmly, “but I wanted to see you about something.”
He nodded to his stenographer and she took up her papers and went.
“The mountain wouldn’t come to Mahomet and so——”
“Do sit down, Nina.”
“I’m not interrupting you very much, am I?”
He laughed.
“No. I’m glad you came, if only to prove to my friends that I really do work.”