Marion waited, full of deep anxiety. Every detail of that midnight interview with the man who held controlling interest in the huge concern came back to her—his clever attempt to ingratiate himself with her in order to learn Maud’s secret, and her curt dismissal when she had met his request with point-blank refusal.
One by one the applicants for a hearing were received by Mr Cunnington, again emerging from his room, some dark and angry, and others smiling and happy. At last her turn came, and she walked into the small office with the severe-looking writing-table and the dark blue carpet.
The dark-bearded man, by whose enterprise that big business had been built up, turned in his chair and faced her.
“Miss Rolfe!” he exclaimed. “Ah! yes,” and he referred to a memorandum upon his desk. “You were absent without leave last night, the housekeeper reports. You are aware of rule seventy-three—eh?”
“Most certainly, sir,” was the trembling girl’s reply, for this meant to her all her future, and more. It meant Max’s love. “But I think I ought to explain that—”
“I have no time, miss, for explanations. You know the rule. When you were engaged here you signed it, and therefore I suppose you’ve read it. It states as follows: ‘Any assistant absent after eleven o’clock without previously obtaining signed leave from Mr Hemmingway or myself will be discharged on the following day.’ The firm have, therefore, dispensed with your services. As regards character, Miss Rolfe, please understand that the firm is silent.”
“But, Mr Cunnington,” cried the girl, “I was absent at the express request of Mr Statham. He wished to see me.” The head of the firm frowned slightly, answering:
“I have no desire to enter into the reasons of your absence. You could easily have asked for leave. If Mr Statham had wished to see you, he would have sent me a note, no doubt. It was at his request I engaged you, I recollect. Therefore, I think that the least said regarding last night the better.”
“But Mr Statham promised me he would send you a message this morning,” the girl declared in her distress.
“Parker, has Mr Statham been on the ’phone this morning?” asked Mr Cunnington of the young man seated near him.