Out of the Air

by Inez Haynes Gillmore

Susannah gathered in time that Mr. Cowler had a great deal of money, and that he had come to New York to invest it. Of course the Carbonado Mining Company—and this included Susannah herself—saw the best of reasons why it should be invested with them. But evidently, he was a hard, cautious customer. He came again and again. He sat closeted for long intervals with Mr. Warner. Sometimes Mr. Byan came into these conferences. Mr. Cowler was always going to luncheon with the one and to dinner with the other. He even went to a baseball game with Mr. O’Hearn. But, although he visited the office more and more frequently, she gathered that the investment was not forthcoming. Susannah knew how frequently he was coming because, in spite of the little, admonitory black hand on the ground-glass door, he always entered, not by the reception room, but by her office. Usually, he preceded his long talk with Mr. Warner by a little chat with her. Evidently, he had not yet caught the quick gait of New York business; for as he left—again through Susannah’s office—he would stop for a longer talk. Once or twice, Susannah had to excuse herself in order to go on with her work. She had been a little afraid that Mr. Warner would comment on these delays in office routine. But, although Mr. Warner once or twice glanced into her office during these intervals, he never interfered.

Then came—yesterday.

Early in the morning, Mr. Warner said:

“Miss Ayer, I wonder if you can do a favor for us?” He went on, without waiting for Susannah’s answer: “Cowler—you know what a helpless person he is—wants to go to dinner and the theater tonight. It happens that none of us can accompany him. We’ve all made the kind of engagement which can’t be broken—business. He feels a little self-conscious. You know, his money came to him late, and he has never been to a big city before. I suspect he is afraid to enter a fashionable restaurant alone. He wants to go to Sherry’s and to the theater afterward—” Mr. Warner paused to smile genially. “He’s something of a hick, you know, and especially in regard to this Sherry and midnight cabaret stuff.” Mr. Warner rarely used slang; and when he did, his smile seemed to put it into quotation marks. “True to type, he has bought tickets in the front row. After the show, he wants to go to one of the midnight cabarets. Would you be willing to steer him through all this? The show is Let’s Beat It.”

Susannah expressed herself as delighted; and indeed she was. To herself she admitted that Mr. Cowler was no more of a “hick” in regard to Broadway, Sherry’s, and midnight cabarets than she herself. But about admitting this, she had all the self-consciousness of the newly arrived New Yorker.

“That is very good of you, Miss Ayer,” said Mr. Warner, appearing much relieved. “You may go home this afternoon an hour earlier.” Again Mr. Warner passed from his incisive, gray-hued sobriety to an expansive geniality. “I know that in these circumstances, ladies like to take time over their toilettes.” He smiled at Susannah, a smile more expansive than any she had ever seen on his face; it showed to the back molars his handsome, white, regular teeth.

Mr. Cowler called for her in a taxicab at seven and—

She heard Mr. Warner’s door open and shut. Footsteps sounded in the corridor—that was Mr. O’Hearn’s voice. She glanced at her wrist-watch. Half-past nine. The partners had arrived early this morning, of all mornings. They were night birds, all three, seldom appearing before half-past ten, and often working in the office late after she had gone. Susannah stopped mid-sentence a letter which she was tapping out to a widow in Iowa, rose, moved toward the door. At the threshold, she stopped, a deep blush suffusing her face. So she paused for a moment, irresolute. When finally she started down the corridor, Mr. Warner emerged from the door of his own office, met her face to face. And as his eyes rested on hers, she was puzzled by the expression on his smooth countenance. Was it anxiety? His expression seemed to question her—then it flowed into his cordial smile.

Susannah was first to speak:

“Good-morning, Mr. Warner. May I see you alone for a moment?”