“It’s just as I tell you,” said Henderson, in his gentle way; “you’ll not see him to-night.”
Mr. Blandford laughed, as though he regarded the matter as a joke, while Mr. Henderson began to fumble among some papers on the table. He selected from these three little documents, which he spread out before him, one on the other. Then he looked at the other two men and smiled.
“Tom,” said Mr. Deometari, “this is a very serious matter. You know this man Johnson as well as we do, and you know that the time has come to get rid of him.”
“I know him a great deal better than either of you,” said Mr. Henderson, still smiling, “and that is the reason he’s not here to-night. That is the reason you won’t see him.”
Mr. Deometari paced back and forth on the floor, pulling his whiskers, while Mr. Blandford drummed impatiently on the table.
“The trouble is,” Mr. Henderson went on, still addressing Mr. Deometari, “that we are both afraid of Archie Blandford’s temper.”
“Now, just listen at that!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford. “Why, you’ll make this chap here think I’m vicious. He’ll believe I’m a man-eater.”
“We both know how he feels toward Captain Johnson,” Mr. Henderson continued, not heeding the interruption, “and we have both been trying to prevent him from doing anything he might regret. I think your plan would have succeeded; and I’m glad you brought Maxwell, anyhow, because I like to meet a bright boy once in a while; but my plan is the best, after all, for Captain Johnson is gone.”
Mr. Deometari stopped walking the floor, and sat down. “Tell us about it.”
“Well,” said Mr. Henderson, “here is some correspondence that came to Captain Johnson through the post-office. There are three letters. We will call this number one: