“I don’t like to give in, but I must think of those whose interests are at stake. If Ballantyne—”
Cranston was staring straight ahead, apparently deep in thought. As Griscom ended his sentence abruptly, Cranston spoke as though in meditation.
“Strange fellow, isn’t he?” he said.
“Who? Ballantyne?”
“No.”
“Wilberton?”
“No. Crowley.”
“Wilberton’s secretary?” responded Griscom. “Yes. He has been with Wilberton many years. His confidential secretary, you know.”
“Yes; that very fact makes me wonder” — a vague, questioning smile appeared upon Cranston’s rigid lips — “wonder why Wilberton sent him away.
“It was all right for Crowley to be there long enough to understand everything that we were discussing. After he had gone, Wilberton said nothing that Crowley had not heard.”