The chemist entered and seated himself silently; his face wore an expression of grim determination.
“Explain my idea to Mr. Wentworth, Merkle,” said the secretary grandly, leaning back in his chair.
The chemist swallowed hard. This was an outcome he had not expected at all. He looked at Mr. Wentworth, wondering whether he should go all over what he had already said just that morning, or whether he should make a clean breast of the whole matter. Before he could reach a conclusion the president took the decision entirely out of his hands.
“Mr. Merkle, how long have you been working on this?” Mr. Wentworth had not changed his easy position at his desk; but his voice now was very alert—low-toned, almost soft, but tense and vibrant. It was the real Mr. Wentworth talking now: the man of action; the forceful, dominant personality that had placed him where he was in the business world.
Mr. Leffingwell Hope noticed the change at once, and opened his eyes wide with surprise.
“Be exact, Mr. Merkle; I mean exactly what date, if you can tell, did Mr. Hope first consult you about this?”
The chemist pulled out his little notebook. “I’m a methodical man, Mr. Wentworth; the exact day it was April 17 last, in the evening.”
“Thank you.” The president jotted down the date, and reached for his telephone. “Mr. Cooper, please. Oh, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Wentworth speaking. What was the date upon which Mr. James Rand was first employed by us? Yes; April 18? Thank you. Was that the day after his first interview with me, according to your remembrance? Thank you.”
The president jotted that down also, hung up the receiver, and turned briskly to his secretary.
“Mr. Hope, when you repeated to me that conversation you had on April 17 with Mr. Rand, did you repeat it correctly?”