"Very well, then," said Pat, and her voice was strangely flat and lifeless. "You're perfectly at liberty to do so, but—" she added, imperiously, "if this is your gratitude, the sooner we part company the better."
Even at this, his reason did not begin to assert itself. "This is my job," he exclaimed, heatedly. "I wasn't born rich like you. I've got to work for my living. I've got to make good on this story or I'm liable to be fired. You don't want me to lose my job, do you?"
Pat looked at him dumbly. "It means nothing to me—now," she said; "nothing in the least." She turned away from him, and re-entered the dining room.
"Please! Miss Preston!" he called after her. A thoughtful pause, and his lips went to the mouthpiece as though he were going to bite it. "You've got the wrong number," he angrily retorted to the insistent person at the other end of the wire. "Dammit! Get off the line!" He hung up the receiver, and swiftly followed after Pat. Coming up to her, he said, in a low, contrite voice: "I'm sorry if I seemed discourteous and ungrateful just now."
"It was most generous of you not to phone your story in," she said, and shrugged indifferently.
"I sort of lost my head the moment I heard that phone bell ring," he explained, "but a big story like this means a whole lot to me." He ran his hand nervously through his tousled hair. "At least, you might let me phone my office, and give the Night Desk some kind of a report about myself. They haven't heard beans from me since I was assigned to the story, early in the evening."
"Surely," Pat agreed. There was a little gentleness in her voice now. "I'll trust you."
Realizing that matters had approached a crisis, I resolved to make my presence known to Pat while the reporter was busy at the telephone, in the library. I could see she was suffering from nerves. The adventure was proving a little too much for her. When she saw my tall figure moving towards her, in the dimly-lighted dining room, she stifled a cry of alarm.
"It's all right, my dear," I said, taking her gently by the arm. "I've seen and heard everything. You've done nothing discreditable. Let's hope when morning comes, and Henry is sober, he'll act more sensible than he did tonight."
When McGinity returned, and saw me, his face went a little paler. He appeared relieved when I gave him a friendly smile.