“Does that satisfy you?”
“I suppose it's got to.”
“Very well. I have the papers here all made out. They need simply to be signed and witnessed. Timbull is the nearest notary.”
He unlocked the outside door.
“Come,” said he.
In silence the two walked the block and a half to the notary's house. Here they were forced to wait some time while Timbull dressed himself and called the necessary witnesses. Finally the papers were executed. In the street Newmark paused significantly. But Orde did not take the hint.
“Are you coming with me?” asked Newmark.
“I am,” replied Orde. “There is one thing more.”
In silence once more they returned to the shadowy low library filled with its evidences of good taste. Newmark threw himself into the armchair. He was quite recovered, once again the imperturbable, coldly calculating, cynical observer. Orde relocked the door, and turned to face him.
“You have five days to leave town,” he said crisply. “Don't ever show up here again. Let me have your address for the payment of this note.”