Mr Galbraith didn't say good-night. Henry thought he was about to, and stood up, expectantly; but the little man suddenly dropped his eyes; looked hurriedly about; muttered—'Where'd I lay that fountain pen?'—found it; and rushed off down the hall, trailing the clippings behind him.
Out in the hall, Mr Merchant pulled the door to.
'Calverly,' he said, 'I congratulate you. And I shall congratulate Galbraith.'
Henry looked at him out of wan eyes.
Then suddenly he giggled aloud.
'I know how you feel,' said the older man kindly. 'It is pleasant to succeed.'
'I felt a little bad about—you know, what you said about making him write that letter. He might think I——'
'Don't you worry about that. I'll have the letter for you in the morning. I'm going to pin him right to it. He'll never get out of this.'
'You—you don't mean that he'd—he'd——'
'Oh, he might forget it.'