Davidge kept away from the office most of the afternoon because Mamise was so intolerably sweet and so tantalizingly 224 unapproachable. He made a pretext of inspecting the works. She had a sugary suspicion of his motive, and munched it with strange comfort.
What might have happened if Davidge had called on her in her then mood and his could easily be guessed. But there are usually interventions. The chaperon this time was Mr. Larrey, the operative of the Department of Justice. He also had his secret.
He arrived at Davidge’s home just as Davidge finished the composition of his third lawn tie and came down-stairs to go. When he saw Larrey he was a trifle curt with his visitor. Thinking him a workman and probably an ambassador from one of the unions on the usual mission of such ambassadors––more pay, less hours, or the discharge of some unorganized laborer––Davidge said:
“Better come round to the office in the morning.”
“I can’t come to your office,” said Larrey.
“Why not? It’s open to everybody.”
“Yeh, but I can’t afford to be seen goin’ there.”
“Good Lord! Isn’t it respectable enough for you?”
“Yeh, but––well, I think it’s my duty to tip you off to a little slick work that’s goin’ on in your establishment.”
“Won’t it keep till to-morrow evening?”