“And where is the man?”
“At an inn, somewhere inside the walls. Sun would know.”
“What is his name?”
Boatwright fumbled among the papers on his desk, and found a card which he passed over.
Doane looked thoughtfully at it, then slipped it into a pocket; said, quiet, deathly sober, “You may look for me sometime to-morrow night. We will make our final arrangements then. Meantime you had all better get what rest you can.” Then he left the room.
Husband and wife looked at each other. The man's lids drooped first. He began rolling the pencil. Finally he said, listlessly:
“Probably it would be wise to sort out these papers—get the letters and reports straight. If we should go, there wouldn't be much time for packing.”
4
Doane went directly to Betty's door, and knocked. She came at once, in her pretty kimono; peeped out at him; cried softly:
“Oh, Dad! You're safe!”