“Henry! Henry Devereux! You––you swindler!” Her speech was seriously impeded by her wrath. “You––you––you.” She flung a savage gesture towards the little man in the 295 background. “You had an agent show him––show Mr. McClellan––this place through the back door!––He didn’t know I––Henry Devereux, you’ve got my three thousand dollars, and you’re going to give it straight back to me! This minute! Do you hear?”
Anna stared at her, and at Henry, and sat down plump and cried into her handkerchief, from sheer hysterical reaction.
“Oh, yes,” said Henry. “Through the back door, if you say so. But that’s the regular business entrance. I suppose the agent thought it looked better, too.”
“The agent! That Standish man! You conspired. You––”
Henry’s chin went up. “Excuse me, Aunt Mirabelle, but I didn’t know the first thing about it until Bob Standish told me he had a client ready to close, and to pay in advance. I didn’t even know your man by sight. I’d have rented it to anybody on earth on the same terms.”
The little chairman edged forward. “Miss Starkweather––Mrs. Mix––I knew how you feel 296 about motion pictures, of course, but how could I know you wouldn’t even want to be in the same building with––”
“Oh, dry up!” She whirled on the lawyer. “Is that fair? Do you call that fair? Do you?”
Mr. Archer put his hand on Henry’s shoulder, and nodded benignly. “To tell the truth, Mrs. Mix, I can’t see where this concerns you personally at all. It’s a straightforward commercial transaction between Henry and Mr. McClellan.”
“It isn’t, either! Mr. McClellan had authority from the League to get us a hall and sign a lease in his own name. I had the directors give it to him, myself. And it was my money that paid for it! Mine!”
Henry grinned at the lawyer. “I didn’t know it until last Saturday. Bob told me if I’d make a dirt-low rent I could get it in advance, and up to Saturday I didn’t even know who I was dickering with.”