Bellair had to furnish a swift, heroic antidote for that agony.
“You haven’t been home, of course?” the man asked in the elevator.
“No.”
“Could we send a messenger to your mother—so she wouldn’t worry, and you wouldn’t have to go home until after we talk?”
“Yes.”
“All right, I’ll see to that at once.”
Davy wrote with trembling hands. The messenger was asked to bring an answer from Mrs. Acton.
“Now tell me,” said Bellair.
“Old Mr. Seth was down when I got back. You know he only comes down for an hour or two now in the middle of the day. He called me to him, and asked where I had been to lunch. I said with you. That was all, until four o’clock, when Mr. Eben came to me and asked if you had shown me anything—a letter from Lot & Company, for instance. I said yes. He went away, and at half-past four, he called me again, handed me my weekly envelope, saying that they would not need me any longer. I came right here. It seemed, I couldn’t go home——”
“Davy, lad, I’m glad I’m not broke, but if I were and couldn’t do a thing to make up—it would be a lucky day for you.”