Wheaton had never seen her so grave. He was sincerely sorry for her trouble, and he tried to say so. There was something appealing in her unusual calm; the low tones of her voice were not wasted on him.
"Father asked me to send for you this morning, but he had grown so ill in a few hours that I took the responsibility of not doing it. The doctor said emphatically that he must not see people. But something in particular was on his mind, some papers that Mr. Fenton should have. They are in his box at the bank, and I was to give you the key to it. It is something about the Traction Company; no doubt you know of it?"
"Yes," Wheaton assented. It was not necessary for him to say that Mr. Porter had told him nothing about it.
"You can attend to this easily?"
"Yes, certainly. Mr. Fenton spoke to me about the matter this afternoon. It is very important and he wished me to report to him as soon as I found the papers. No doubt they are in your father's box," he said. "He is always very methodical." He smiled at her reassuringly and rose. She did not ask him to stay longer, but went to fetch the key.
It was a small, thin bit of steel. Wheaton turned it over in his hand.
"I'll return the key to-morrow, after I've found the papers Mr. Fenton wants."
"Very well. I hope you will have no difficulty."
He still held the key in his fingers, not knowing whether this was his dismissal or not.