Murray dressed at lightning speed, giving little time to the brushing of hair or arrangement of tie, and was soon hurrying down-stairs.
She had his coffee all poured, and there was oat-meal with cream and pulverized sugar. There was a half a grapefruit too, all cut and ready for eating, and he was hungry as a bear. Yet in spite of all her talk about hurrying, she stopped to say that prayer before eating. Queer. It seemed to be a matter of course, like breathing—a habit that one couldn’t stop. He almost bungled things by beginning a bite of his fruit in the middle of it. But she didn’t seem to notice. She was bringing hot buttered toast and scrambled eggs and wonderful-looking fried potatoes. He could have hugged her, they all looked so good, and he had been hungry, hungry, hungry so many days before that!
Then right into the midst of that wonderful breakfast there came a sharp ring at the door. He became conscious that he had heard a high-power car drive by and stop, and panic seized upon him. He was caught at last, caught in his own trap, baited by sleep. What a fool he had been! He set down his cup of coffee and sprang to his feet, looking wildly about him.
“I must go!” he murmured vaguely, feeling he must say something to his hostess.
But she was already on her feet, going swiftly to the door.
“Get your coat and hat,” she said in a low tone as she went. “Too bad, right in the middle of your breakfast. But he won’t want to wait—”
He dashed toward the stairs, thinking to make his escape out of a window from above somewhere while the officers entered below, but almost ran into the arms of Mr. Elliot Harper, smiling and affable, with extended hand.
“Sorry to have to hurry you the first day,” he said pleasantly, “but I didn’t think to mention it last night. There’s a conference this morning, and I thought I’d like to have you attend. I drove around in the car to pick you up. Don’t let me take you away till you’ve finished breakfast, however—!”
“Oh, I’ve finished,” said the young man, uneasily glancing up the stairs, and wondering if his best chance lay up there or through the kitchen door. He seemed to be always just about to make a dash and escape. It was amusing when one stopped to think of it, how he got more and more tangled in a web. Hang it all! If he only hadn’t fallen asleep last night! If he only could think of a reasonable excuse to get away! It wouldn’t do to just bolt with this keen-eyed business man watching him. He was the kind to set the machinery of the law a-moving swiftly. He must use guile.
“I meant to go back and polish my shoes,” he said deprecatingly. “If you can wait just a moment—”