Their hands tightened in a crushing clasp; then she swung on her spurred heel and walked out, leaving him haggard, motionless. He heard the front door close, and he swayed forward, dropping his face in his hands, arms half buried among the papers on his desk.
Plank found him there, an hour later, fumbling among the papers, and at first feared that he read in Siward's drawn and sullen face a premonition of the ever-dreaded symptoms.
“Quarrier has telephoned asking for a conference at last,” he said abruptly, sitting down beside Siward.
“Well,” inquired Siward, “how do you interpret that—favourably?”
“I am inclined to think he is a bit uneasy,” said Plank cautiously. “Harrington made a secret trip to Albany last week. You didn't know that.”
“No.”
“Well, he did. It looks to me as though there were going to be a ghost of a chance for an investigation. That is how I am inclined to consider Harrington's trip and Quarrier's flag of truce. But—I don't know. There's nothing definite, of course. You are as conversant with the situation as I am.”
“No, I am not. That is like you, Plank, to ascribe to me the same business sense that you possess, but I haven't got it. It's very nice and considerate of you, but I haven't it, and you know it.”
“I think you have.”
“You think so because you think generously. That doesn't alter the facts. Now tell me what you have concluded that we ought to do and I'll say 'Amen,' as usual.”