"
He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. "I thank you," he
said; "I know you meant well. I know you wanted to help me, but"--he
shrugged his shoulders--"my duty!"
As he walked down the driveway to his car his shoulders continued to
move.
But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his
presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up the stairs and threw open the
door of her office.
As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held in
his hand an open note-book, the other was Tim Meehan, of Tammany. The
latter greeted her with a shout.
"We heard everything he said!" he cried. His voice rose in torment. "An'
we can't use a word of it! He acted just like we'd oughta knowed he'd
act. He's HONEST! He's so damned honest he ain't human; he's a ----
gilded saint!"
Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the floor
the contents of the waste-paper basket. From them she snatched a piece
of crumpled paper.
"Shut up!" she shouted. "Listen! His chauffeur brought him this." In a
voice that quivered with indignation, that sobbed with anger, she read
aloud:
"'As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth and
called up Mrs.
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