It was the first time Kent had seen Helen since the tragedy of Tuesday, and as he advanced to greet her he noted with concern her air of distress and the troubled look in her eyes. Her composed manner was obviously only maintained by the exertion of self-control, for the hand she offered him was unsteady.
“You are so kind,” she murmured as he placed a chair for her. “Babs told me you have promised your aid, and so I have come—” she pressed one hand to her side as if she found breathing difficult and Kent, reaching for his pitcher of ice water which stood near at hand, filled a tumbler and gave it to her.
“Take a little,” he coaxed as she moved as if to refuse the glass. “Why didn't you telephone and I would have called on you; in fact, I planned to run in and see you this afternoon.
“It is wiser to have our talk here,” she replied. Setting down the empty glass she gazed about the office and her face brightened at sight of a safe standing in one corner. “Is that yours or Philip's?” she asked, pointing to it.
“The safe? Oh, it's for our joint use, owned by the firm, you know,” explained Kent, somewhat puzzled by her eagerness.
“Do you keep your private papers there, as well as the firm's?”
“Oh, yes; Philip has retained one section and I the other.” Kent walked over and threw open the massive door which he had unlocked on entering the office and left ajar. “Would you like to see the arrangements of the compartments?”
Without answering Helen crossed the room and stood by his side.
“Which is Philip's section?” she asked.
“This,” and Kent touched the side of the safe.