He drew out the slip that it contained.
A queer little look came into his eyes. Then he pursed his lips, and smiled.
He tore the slip into tiny flakes and let them fall from his open hand like snow, into the waste-basket.
Just then the bells in the library tower clanged out four times.
"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the president. "Half-past one! I shall be late for luncheon!"
And gathering up his coat and hat he left his office, hurriedly.
THE DOOR—A NOCTURNE