“You hope so?”—with the controlled emphasis of impatience.
“Yes. Don't you, Miss Landis? When I saw him at his home, he was lame—on crutches—and he looked rather ghastly; and all he said was that he expected to leave for the country. I asked him to shoot next year at Black Fells, and he seemed bothered about business, and said it might keep him from taking any vacation.”
“He spoke about his business?”
“Yes, he—”
“What is the trouble with his business? Is it anything about Amalgamated and Inter-County?”
“I think so.”
“Is he worried?”
Plank said deliberately: “I should be, if my interests were locked up in Amalgamated Electric.”
“Could you tell me why that would worry you?” she asked, smiling persuasively across at him.
“No,” he said, “I can't tell you.”