Mrs. Meredith looked at him in marked displeasure. “My daughter’s affairs are not a topic for discussion,” she stated, frigidly. “That is all, Fernando.”
As the hall door clicked shut on the servant’s retreating figure, Mrs. Meredith turned back to her desk with a heavy frown. Could it be possible that her willing tool was growing restive?
Fernando reached the first floor in time to open the front door as the bell sounded. A stranger stood on the threshold.
“May I see Mr. Samuel Hollister?” he asked. “I was told at his office that he was here.”
Looking past the stranger Fernando descried Hollister coming up the graveled walk accompanied by Doctor Curtis.
“Here he is,” he exclaimed. “Behind you, sir. How better you go join him?”
With a somewhat surprised glance at the Filipino, the stranger wheeled around and going down the veranda steps reached Hollister and Curtis as they paused under the pergola.
“Mr. Hollister?” he asked, raising his hat. “My name is Elliott—Frank Elliott, of Chicago. Your clerk sent me out here as I have only a brief time in Washington.” His slight hesitation was but momentary. “I understand that you were John Meredith’s lawyer and are now an executor of his estate under the terms of his will.”
“Your information is correct,” replied Hollister, as the other stopped. “Let me introduce Doctor David Curtis, Mr. Elliott.”
Elliott looked with some curiosity at the blind surgeon as they shook hands.