"Do I need an ally? Oh, boy! And hungry? I could eat my shirt, really. But I'm not hurt as much as you think. What's a little sock in the jaw?"
"Then you'll agree to my proposition?"
A moment's pause, then: "How can my troubles interest you so much? Tell me."
With an attempt at bravado, Pat replied: "I have no personal interest. My whole idea is to get Uncle Henry out of the fix he's got himself into—with you."
The reporter sighed. "I'm incredibly foolish to imagine that you would be interested in me—personally. All the same, I'm eternally grateful, and give you my word I'll not give you the slip, or phone my office."
There was a heavy lock and bolt to negotiate, and when I heard the jingle of the keys and the snapping back of the lock, discretion counselled that I vanish from the scene. I had overheard enough to convince me that Pat was well able to look after herself. The comforting discovery that the reporter's father had been a close friend of Pat's parent had eased the situation immensely.
And yet the uneasy fear assailed me that Pat might get the worst of the bargain. How was one to know that the reporter was as honest and harmless as he sounded? At all costs, I felt, that remote contingency must be guarded against.
VII
I secreted myself in the elevator. A quarter of an hour passed. There was no sound of Pat and the reporter. My uneasiness grew by bounds. Finally, I decided to manifest my presence, if only for the sake of propriety. If Henry should appear unexpectedly and find these two together, alone, it would be hell let loose.