“Well, we’re on our way to procure them now.” But at the district-attorney’s office there was fresh delay. The clerk whose duty it was to make out the passes, had not yet reached his post; and none of his colleagues seemed anxious to play the lieutenant’s part.
Hetzel lost his temper.
“Come, what are you lazy louts paid for, I’d like to know?” he thundered. “Where’s your master? Where’s Mr. Romer? I’ll see whether you’re to sit around here in your shirt-sleeves, grinning, or not. I want some one of you to wait on me, or I’ll make it hot for the whole pack.”
He got his passes.
They drove back to the Tombs. This time Mrs. Hart encountered no obstacles to her entrance.
Hetzel rejoined Arthur in the carriage. A quarter-hour elapsed before either spoke.
Arthur said, “She—she’s staying a long while.”
“Oh,” responded Hetzel, “they’ve got such a lot to talk about, you know.”
At the end of another quarter-hour, more or less, Arthur complained, “What under heaven can be keeping her so long?”
“Be patient,” said Hetzel. “It’ll do no good to fret.”