"I must have time," he said to himself. "I haven't thought this business out for a cent."
He turned on his heel, and walked slowly down the marble-flagged corridor past the glazed doors of half a dozen offices. Then he stopped with sudden resolution.
"Damn it! Be a man!" he adjured himself. "This won't do."
He walked resolutely up to the door, and entered his uncle's outer office. A typewriter was clicking busily at one desk, and various clerks were scratching away assiduously. Several people were seated about, evidently waiting to speak with Mr. Drake. Even as Jack entered, the door opened, and a man came out from the inner room. The head clerk nodded to Jack, but regarded him curiously.
"How do you do, Mr. Castleport?" he said.
"Can I see my uncle?" Jack asked, returning his salutation, and he added to himself, "He knows all about the Merle. I can tell by his looks."
"He's pretty busy this morning," the clerk answered, "but I'll tell him you're here. Of course he'll see you as soon as he can."
Jack took a seat and waited until the next man came out of the inner office. Then the head clerk went in, and in a moment returned with a queer look on his face. "Mr. Drake says these men are here by appointment," he reported, "and he cannot see you till they are gone."
"All right," Jack answered, reflecting ruefully that he was not accustomed to be thus kept waiting in his uncle's office. "I am in no hurry."