“Put out my coat and shoes, and tell the gentleman I’ll be down in a moment.”
When the boy had gone he went to a bronze jar that stood on the mantel and knocked his ashes into it. He put on a pair of low shoes and a blue serge sack-coat, and before he left the room he stood on the threshold a moment, thinking deeply.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, in the agreeable tone in which he always swore to himself; and then he went down stairs.
“Good afternoon, Captain Pollock,” he said courteously, taking a step toward his caller, but Pollock stood perfectly rigid and did not move.
“Please be seated, Captain. I am quite at your service.”
Merriam stood by his desk, his hand resting upon it.
“Mr. Merriam,” began Pollock, “I was introduced to you by a gentleman in your own club several months ago.”
“That is correct.”
“I have met you a number of times since,—I needn’t specify. Within a week you have refused to speak to me at the club; and yesterday, at Mr. Dameron’s house, you acted toward me in an extraordinary way, to say the least.”
Merriam nodded affirmatively.