Mr. Hartz was still in the valley of decision, this letter in hand, when Helen Sholto came into the room. Some two years before, on one of his brief but frequent trips across the Atlantic, he had found this remarkably able girl doing odd jobs in the New York office. Taken at once by her personality, he had brought her to London as one of several confidential secretaries, to whom, however, he never opened his mind; and in a post that was no sinecure she had discovered a feminine quick-thinking competence that had proved of high value. Moreover, Helen herself, with her charm, her high spirits, her good looks, seemed to relieve even the gloom and the grime of Cosmos Alley.
The great man had this morning, as usual, a cordial greeting, a benign smile, to offer her. But it hardly called for his abnormal powers of observation to see at once that something was wrong. His greeting was returned with a slight bow. Her face was grave and set. And in prompt response to the question in his eyes, she said without a word of preface in a low voice, “I wish to give formal notice to terminate my engagement here.”
Saul Hartz’s answer was to drum gently with a pencil on his blotting pad.
“I think it’s cruel!” Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. “The speech is in all the papers this morning. And the Planet has a leading article ... after your promise!”
The Colossus gazed at her impassively, and then he said, in that peculiar soft tone that now made her shiver. “Sit down, my dear child, and compose yourself. There’s something I have to say to you.”
Against her own reluctant will, Helen took a chair at the side of his desk, towards which he pointed.
“To begin with,” he said, “let me apologize for a mistake—a regrettable mistake. The instructions I gave hurriedly last night over the telephone were misunderstood. But I want you to believe”—the soft voice was now fused with feeling—“that that mistake, deplorable as it is, after all, is only of minor importance.”
Helen could only gasp. Of only minor importance! How dare he say that!
“You see, on inquiry, we learn that the speech was made as reported.”
“But Mr. Endor declares that he never used the words attributed to him,” was Helen’s answer, quick and stern.