“That’s none of your business!” snapped Mr. Morton, pocketing the letter.
So, then, Mary did have some plan under way!
“Mr. Clifford,” Mr. Morton said abruptly, then paused. Clifford now perceived that the usually composed and masterful financier was in a state of nerves which he was trying his utmost to control. “Mr. Clifford, some time ago I asked you to help me with my son. I have sent for you to ask you that again.”
“Help you!” Clifford wanted a bit of information on a certain point, so he pretended a greater ignorance than was actually his. “Why, I supposed you had taken Jack off, braced him up, and brought about the marriage you once told me was your chief desire for Jack—to Miss Maisie Jones. I supposed Jack and she were on their honeymoon.”
“That affair is all off,” the father said briefly.
“What! Definitely?”
“Her aunt wrote saying that Maisie no longer cared for Jack. I wrote to Maisie, and she confirmed it. She was unchangeable.”
So, then, Maisie Jones had fulfilled her promise to Mary.
“To repeat,” Mr. Morton went on, “I have sent for you to ask you again to help me with Jack.”
“My answer now must be the same as when you asked help of me before: I can’t say until I know the situation. And even then I must reserve the privilege to act as I think best.”