Either because the outdoors was not cheerful that morning or because the Senator had been too much engrossed in meditation to remember that daylight would serve him, the curtains of the study were drawn and the electric lamps were on.
Corson was walking up and down the room, chewing on one end of a cigar and making a soggy torch of the other end. He continued to pace while North pulled off his coat.
"I have sent word to Morrison to come here," reported the host.
The mantel clock reported the hour as nine; His Excellency scowled at the clock's face. "And you got word back, I suppose, that after he has come out of his mill at ten o'clock and has washed his hands and—"
"He's at City Hall," snapped Corson, with an acerbity that matched the
Governor's. "I called the mill and was referred to Morrison at City Hall.
He's on his way up here! At any rate, he said he'd start at once."
"Did he condescend to intimate in what capacity he proposes to land on us this time?"
"I'm going to allow you to draw your own conclusions. I've been trying to draw some of my own from what he said."
"What did he say?"
"Apologized because I was put to any trouble in locating him. Said he was expecting to be called by me and thought he would go to City Hall and await my summons in order to put himself and the whole situation on a strictly official basis." The Senator delivered that information sullenly.
"What kind of a devilish basis does he think he's been operating on?"