"Pooh! He's only a man, sonny, like any other. You've nothing to fear from him, since you are on the right side of the fence. If you were on the wrong side, then indeed you might tremble."
"The inspector has arrived," a messenger from upstairs announced. "He is in Mr. Burton's office with the members of the firm. He wishes to see the house detective, the salesman, and young Burton."
"I guess I'm in for it," Hollings whispered to Mr. Rhinehart.
"Nonsense! Tell the truth—that's all you've got to do."
"But I was such a duffer!"
"I fumbled the ball, too, Mr. Hollings," interrupted Christopher consolingly. "Remember I didn't play a very brilliant game."
"The game wasn't up to you, sonny," Hollings returned. "It was I. I did the foozling."
Up they shot in the elevator.
The messenger in his uniform and buttons went ahead and opened the door.
"Mr. Hollings is here, sir," announced he. "And Mr. Christopher and the detective, Mr. Waldron."