“Yes.”
“They told me just as I was getting into the cab.” Farley smiled at Helen. “Well, we made a good fight, Mrs. Briggs. Too bad all our work was thrown away!”
“It wasn’t, Farley. That is, yours wasn’t,” said Briggs. “And before you and my wife, I can say what I shouldn’t dare to say to anyone else. I’m glad I’m beaten. I’m glad to be out of it. Of course, I am out of it now for good. After such a crushing defeat and with my record, I can never get back.” He saw that Farley was about to protest. “Oh, don’t, Farley! Even if I could I don’t want to. I feel as if all my energy and ambition were gone.”
“They’ll come back after you’ve got rested,” Farley remarked. “You’re only tired out. You’ve been working on your nerves for weeks. Now I’m going to say good-night.” He offered his hand to Helen. “Good-night, Mrs. Briggs.”
“Good-night,” said Helen.
Farley stepped back to let Michael speak to Briggs.
“There’s a gentleman in the reception room, sir, that wants to see you. He says he comes from the Chronicle.”
Douglas Briggs looked at the card. His lip curled. “From the Chronicle?” he said, contemptuously. “Well, we mustn’t refuse the Chronicle. I suppose he’s come to see how I’ve taken my defeat.” He rose, adjusted his frock coat and threw back his shoulders. “You stay here, Farley, till I come back,” he said.
“All right.” Michael followed Briggs from the room, leaving Farley and Helen together.
“Mr. Briggs will be all right after he’s had a rest from the strain,” said Farley.