“Absolutely.”
“Fine! Telephone Maisie at once.”
Dan hesitated, so Mellenger pressed the push-button that summoned Dan’s secretary. “Please get Miss Morrison on the telephone for Mr. Pritchard,” he requested.
Maisie was at home and to Dan’s suggestion she agreed—not with enthusiasm, but upon the ground of obliging him, of helping him out of a distressing situation. Mellenger, listening to Dan’s replies, managed to patch together a very fair résumé of their conversation, and grinned openly.
“Told you I was a good hand at guessing,” he bragged. “Ah, that’s a smart girl, that Maisie. She’s a diplomat. Got tact—rarest feminine gift. Before you hang up I should like to speak to her.”
There was a wait of a few minutes while Maisie urged her aunt to agree to chaperon the party. Presently Maisie called back to say that Mrs. Casson, having communicated by telephone with her husband, would be delighted to accept.
“Falls in with old Casson’s mood very nicely,” Dan soliloquized. “He’s morose and sulky and prefers to be alone.” To Maisie: “Mel is in my office, Maisie. He wishes to say a word to you.”
“Miss Maisie,” Mellenger announced, “I’ve taken on a new job.”
“Indeed?”
“I’m managing Dan Pritchard. The man is bewildered and doesn’t know how to manage himself. He’s afraid to act with force and decision at home, although down in the office he never hesitates to crack the whip.”