Bobby was still more astonished to find himself laying his fist tensely upon his desk. The lurking smile was now gone entirely from Mr. Sharpe’s face.
“I must admit, Mr. Burnit, that your affairs have turned out rather unfortunately,” he said, “but I think that they might be remedied for you a bit, perhaps. Suppose you go and see Stone.”
“I do not care to see Mr. Stone,” said Bobby.
“But he wants to see you,” persisted Sharpe. “In fact, he told me so this morning. I’m quite sure you would find it to your advantage to drop over there.”
“I shall never enter Mr. Stone’s office until he has vacated it for good,” said Bobby; “then I might be induced to come over and break up the furniture. If Stone wants to see me I’m keeping fairly regular office hours here.”
“It is not Mr. Stone’s habit to go to other people,” bluffed Sharpe, growing somewhat nervous; for it was one of Stone’s traits not to forgive the failure of a mission. He had no use for extenuating circumstances, He never looked at anything in this world but results.
Bobby took down the receiver of his house telephone.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Jolter, please,” said he.
Sharpe rose to go.
“Just wait a moment, Mr. Sharpe,” said Bobby peremptorily, and Sharpe stopped. “Jolter,” he directed crisply, turning again to the ’phone, “kindly step into my office, will you?”