“Mr. Nicholas is out, miss,” said the office-boy, with gentlemanly regret. “He's back in New York, but he's gone out.”
“I don't want Mr. Nicholas. I want Mr. Kemp.”
“Mr. Kemp?”
“Yes, Mr. Kemp.”
Sorrow at his inability to oblige shone from every hill-top on the boy's face.
“Don't know of anyone of that name around here,” he said, apologetically.
“But surely...” Sally broke off suddenly. A grim foreboding had come to her. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
“All day, ma'am,” said the office-boy, with the manner of a Casablanca.
“I mean, how long have you been employed here?”
“Just over a month, miss.”