“I am awfully sorry to have annoyed you with this matter, but you understand exactly how Miss Lawton and I feel about it––”
“Of course, Mr. Hamilton, I realize the situation fully. I am glad to have had this opportunity to explain to you how the matter stood as far as I personally was concerned. You know I will do anything that I can for Miss Lawton and I trust that you will call upon me.”
He rose with ponderous significance as if to state tacitly that the interview was at an end, but the younger man did not stir from his chair.
“This letter came to you––when did you say, Mr. Mallowe?”
“When Pennington Lawton and his daughter were at The Breakers at Long Bay, about two years ago last August, as nearly as I can remember.”
“If you still had the envelope, we could obtain the exact date from the postmark,” Ramon suggested significantly. “The letter I see is only headed ‘Saturday.’”
“Yes, it is unfortunate that I did not keep it,” the magnate retorted a little drily. “It was by the merest, most fortunate chance that the letter itself came to light. However, I cannot see at this late date what difference it could possibly make when the letter was mailed, since it establishes beyond any possibility of doubt the fact that it was mailed. As to the matter of the negotiation of the loan, I would prefer that you apply to Mr. Moore himself for the particulars concerning it. I am sure that he will be quite as glad as I have been to give you such definite information as he possesses.”
This time the dismissal could not be ignored, and Ramon Hamilton took his departure, but not before he had marked well the particular drawer within the safe from which the letter had been taken.
As he went down the corridor, a saucy, red-cheeked young woman with business briskness in her manner came from an inner office and smiled boldly at him. She was Loretta Murfree, the new filing clerk who had been installed only that morning in Mr. Mallowe’s office.