“Nothing,” he said, “it’s hot and I’m—I’m—”
He threw the newspaper on the floor.
“Here,” he said, “give me another newspaper.”
The girl picked up another paper from the heap on the corner of the desk and passed it across to him. Grogan looked at the headlines.
“Help—murder,” he cried. Then he cast the paper on the floor and got to his feet abruptly.
“Mr. Grogan,” asked the girl, “what is the matter?”
“I asked for quiet,” Grogan replied, picking up the papers and shaking them angrily, “and on the front page of this paper is a letter written and signed by Mary Randall.”
“And why should Mary Randall disturb you?”
“Do you know she writes to me?”
“Writes to you?”