Dorothy appeared grave, even disturbed, but not unhappy.
“No, there is nothing the matter with Lance. In fact, he has had a piece of rare good fortune. We are to go to Mr. Hammond’s office as soon as you and Mr. Fenton have left your bags at a hotel. Father must return to Westhaven as soon as possible and wants to talk to you first. Please don’t ask questions. It is all too involved and mysterious to make you understand anything. I don’t understand, although I have heard every detail.”
“One thing I must ask: Has the mystery to do with Kara?”
Dorothy nodded.
“Yes, but not what you think!” which was something of a triumph as an answer that was valueless.
To save time, Mr. Fenton and Tory agreed to go directly to Mr. Hammond’s place of business, which was not far away. He had a private office and their interview, that appeared to be secret, would not be interrupted. A telephone message secured the necessary hotel accommodations.
Tory’s surroundings made a vivid impression upon her, although she was scarcely aware of having done more than glance about her in the hour that followed.
On one of the highest floors in a tall building Mr. Hammond’s office windows commanded a magnificent view of the city—the broken skyline, the matchless harbor, dotted with ships from the seven seas, the network of fairy-like bridges crossing to Long Island.
Tory sat in a small, straight-backed chair near one of the windows, with Dorothy close beside her. Their faces were turned away from the distant vista and their eyes upon the central figure in the group of three men.
Mr. Hammond was in his office chair near his roll-top desk.