“Yes; I told him I should be there at seven.”
“Don’t go, and don’t write any explanation. Let him transfer a little of his anxiety to the fear of losing his fifty pounds. I want, if possible, to publish this information with absolute accuracy.”
“Is there any danger, Mr. Hardwick, that some of the other papers may get on the track of this?”
“No, I don’t think so; not for three days, anyway. If we appear too eager, this man Hazel may refuse us altogether.”
“Very good, sir.”
Miss Baxter heard the editor stop in his walk, and she heard the rustling of paper, as if the subordinate were gathering up some documents on which he had been consulting his chief. She was panic-stricken to think that either of the men might come out and find her in the position of an eavesdropper, so with great quietness she opened the door and slipped out into the hall, going from there to the entrance of the ordinary waiting-room, in which she found, not the twelve men that the porter had expatiated upon, but five. Evidently the other seven had existed only in the porter’s imagination, or had become tired of waiting and had withdrawn. The five looked up at her as she entered and sat down on a chair near the door. A moment later the door communicating with the room she had quitted opened, and a clerk came in. He held two or three slips of paper in his hand, and calling out a name, one of the men rose.
“Mr. Hardwick says,” spoke up the clerk, “that this matter is in Mr. Alder’s department; would you mind seeing him? Room number five.”
So that man was thus got rid of. The clerk mentioned another name, and again a man rose.
“Mr. Hardwick,” the clerk said, “has the matter under consideration. Call again to-morrow at this hour, then he will give you his decision.”
That got rid of number two. The third man was asked to leave his name and address; the editor would write to him. Number four was told that if he would set down his proposition in writing, and send it in to Mr. Hardwick, it would have that gentleman’s serious consideration. The fifth man was not so easily disposed of. He insisted upon seeing the editor, and presently disappeared inside with the clerk. Miss Baxter smiled at the rapid dispersion of the group, for it reminded her of the rhyme about the one little, two little, three little nigger-boys. But all the time there kept running through her mind the phrase, “Board of Public Construction,” and the name, “Hazel.”