It never reached her. In the fury she had worked up, she had conveniently forgotten that she had written it herself. "Don't answer me back!" she cried, beside herself. "I don't know whether you did or not. I don't know whether you're more a rascal or a fool! But I know we're done with you. You're discharged, do you understand? You can go!"
Evan stared at her in frank amazement. Then he laughed. He was sorely tempted to tell what he knew, but when he looked at the crushed figure at the desk, he hadn't the heart. He wasn't going to take his dismissal from her, though.
"Mr. Deaves, do you wish me to go?" he asked.
George Deaves nodded.
"Very well," said Evan. "It suits me!" He bowed ironically to each of them, and left the room.
In the lower hall on his way out he was arrested by a cautious "Sst! Sst!" The old man appeared from around a corner. With many a furtive look over his shoulder, he pulled Evan into the small reception room off the hall.
"Did they fire you?" he asked.
"They did," said Evan grimly.
"Well, well, well!" said the old man with that unalterable grin. "You're a good boy too! I always said so! But what can anybody do with a wilful woman! So we've had our last walk together, eh?"
He really seemed to be sorry. So was Evan. In spite of all, Simeon Deaves was a funny old cuss. "Our last walk!" said Evan.