III.
By five o’clock that afternoon the last package of cards for Garrod’s shoes had been sent by messenger to H. G. Garrod at the Biltmore Hotel. He was to give a decision next morning. At 5.30 Roger’s stenographer tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Mr Golden, the superintendent of the building, to see you.’
Roger turned around dazedly.
‘Oh, how do?’
Mr Golden came directly to the point. If Mr Halsey intended to keep the office any longer, the little oversight about the rent had better be remedied right away.
‘Mr Golden,’ said Roger wearily, ‘everything’ll be all right tomorrow. If you worry me now maybe you’ll never get your money. After tomorrow nothing’ll matter.’
Mr Golden looked at the tenant uneasily. Young men sometimes did away with themselves when business went wrong. Then his e
