Loring had risen to his feet and spoke but one word. It was the popular one for the infernal regions.
Gallatin smiled. And then to the chief clerk, “Tooker, show Mr. Markham in, please.”
The situation had gotten beyond the control of Mr. Leuppold, who was completely nonplused by Mr. Gallatin’s rapidity, succinctness and damnable accuracy; but he made one desperate effort to regain his lost ground.
“Markham, a broken man, a drunkard, a gambler——”
“But once Mr. Loring’s secretary,” Gallatin broke in significantly. “Wait, Mr. Leuppold.”
In a moment Mr. Markham entered. He was a tall man, with keen eyes, hawklike nose and a weak mouth. As he entered Loring turned toward the door and the eyes of the two men met, Loring’s curious, the newcomer’s eager and unflinching.
“Mr. Markham,” asked Gallatin, “do you know this gentleman?”
“Yes. He is Henry K. Loring.”
“Have you ever seen these checks?”