It was Hakluyt's voice. He had just entered, and Floyd, as he lay, heard the door of the outer office close.
"Well," said Hakluyt, who seemed to be continuing a conversation begun outside, "id is just so. There is noding to fear. Wait for a moment, though."
He came to the door of the inner office where Floyd was lying, pushed it more widely open, and peeped in.
Floyd, more from shame than any other reason, lay with his eyes closed.
Hakluyt stood looking at him for a few seconds, then he closed the door.
Floyd instantly opened his eyes and sat up on the couch.
Hakluyt and the other man, whoever he might be, had been talking about him. Of that he felt certain. He had no concrete evidence to go upon, yet he felt sure that he had been under discussion and that they were discussing him now. His ego had become abnormally sensitive, fortunately for him. He felt sure that his disgraceful conduct was the subject of their talk, and the overmastering desire to hear the worst that could be said of him prompted him to leave the couch, approach the door, and put his ear to the paneling. He heard Hakluyt's voice and every word that he said distinctly.
"Look here, Captain Luckman," said Hakluyt, "when I say a thing I mean id. You need have no fear. Schumer will see that there is no evidence against you. You will dispose of the young man so that no trouble will be made, no questions asked. You will not raise the price on me on that account. You run no risk. That is all Schumer's work, and no blood need be spilled. Schumer is nod the man to make any blunder. Two hundred pounds now and two hundred when you get back. That is my uldimatum, and what have you to do for that—noding, absolutely noding."
"I'm not troubling about what Schumer does to the blighter," came Luckman's voice. "I'm thinking of myself, and I say it's not enough. Two-fifty down and two-fifty when I get back is my ultimatum, and poor enough pay it is for a job like that."
Floyd heard Hakluyt laugh. Just a single laugh, mirthless as a rap on a coffin lid.