“I repeat,” said Spurrier, “that this seems to me a brass-bound bluff. I make only the request that I be permitted to talk with this brigand alone; to sound him out with no interference and to shape my policy by the circumstances. I’m not at all frightened.”
Harrison answered snappily:
“I agree to that—but if you fail you fail finally.”
So on Tuesday forenoon Spurrier sat cross-legged in Harrison’s office and their discussion had come to its end. Now, he had only to await the unknown person who was to arrive at noon bearing alleged terms, a person who claimed to be armed for battle if battle were needed.
At Harrison’s left and right sat his favored lieutenants, but Spurrier himself occupied a chair a little bit apart, relegated to a zone of probation.
Then a rap sounded on the door, and Spurrier smiled with a ghost of triumph as he noted that he alone of the small group did not start at the signal. For all their great caliber and standing, these men were keyed to expectancy and exasperated nervousness.
The clerk who appeared made his announcement with the calculated evenness of routine: “A lady is waiting. She says her name doesn’t matter. She has an appointment for twelve.”
“A lady!” exclaimed Harrison in amazement. “My God, do we have to fight this thing out with a woman?”
The tableau of astonishment held, until Spurrier broke it: