“Yes.”
“Was he alone? Nobody along to look after him?”
“He was alone, for a wonder. He had heard the news, too. Apparently had just learned it.”
“He had? I want to know! Who told him?”
“He didn’t say. He was very much agitated. Wouldn’t say anything except to ask if it was true. I think we can guess who told him.”
“Maybe. Well, what did you say?”
“Nothing of importance. I refused to discuss my clients’ affairs.”
“Right you are! How did he take that?”
“He went up like a sky-rocket. Said he had a right to know, under the circumstances. I admitted it, but said I could tell him nothing—yet. He went away frantic, and I called you.”
“Um-hm. Well, Mr. Sylvester, suppose you do see him and his boss. See ’em and tell ’em some of the truth. Don’t tell too much though; not who was to blame nor how, but just that it looks pretty bad so fur as the estate’s concerned. Then say you want to see ’em again and will arrange another interview. Don’t set any time and place for that until you hear from me. Understand?”