"Good-morning, Mr. Ditmar," Caldwell said. "Why, yes, she's in your room."
"Oh!" said Ditmar.
"The Boston office has just been calling you—they want to know if you can't take the nine twenty-two," Caldwell went on. "It's about that lawsuit. It comes into court Monday morning, and Mr. Sprole is there, and they say they have to see you. Miss Bumpus has the memorandum."
Ditmar looked at his watch.
"Damn it, why didn't they let me know yesterday?" he exclaimed. "I won't see anybody, Caldwell—not even Orcutt—just now. You understand. I've got to have a little time to do some letters. I won't be disturbed—by any one—for half an hour."
Caldwell nodded.
"All right, Mr. Ditmar."
Ditmar went into his office, closing the door behind him. She was occupied as usual, cutting open the letters and laying them in a pile with the deftness and rapidity that characterized all she did.
"Janet!" he exclaimed.
"There's a message for you from Boston. I've made a note of it," she replied.