He took the receiver from her with a left hand which trembled, and with his untrained right somehow caught and imprisoned both of hers. "Stand right by me," he begged hurriedly.
Now he hoisted the receiver in the general direction of his ear, and said in what he doubtless thought was quite a businesslike manner: "Well?"
"Mr. Queed? This is Mr. Hickok," said the incisive voice over the wire. "Well, what in the mischief are you doing up there?"
"I'm—I'm—transacting some important business—with the Department," said Mr. Surface, and gave Sharlee's hands a desperate squeeze. "But my—"
"Well, we're transacting some important business down here. Never should have found you but for Mr. Dayne's happening along. Did you know that West had resigned?"
"No, has he? But I started—"
"Peace to his ashes. De mortuis nil nisi bonum. The directors are meeting now to elect his successor. Only one name has been mentioned. There's only one editor we'll hear of for the paper. Won't you come back to us, my boy?"
The young man cleared his throat. "Come? I'd—think it the greatest honor—there's nothing I'd rather have. You are all too—too kind to me—I can't tell you—but—"
"Oh, no buts! But us no buts now! I'll go tell them—"
"No—wait," called the young man, hastily. "If I come, I don't come as Queed, you know. My name is Henry G. Surface. That may make a difference—"