"I shall be playing golf to-morrow and Friday, and of course
Saturday. Monday morning you might let me have a report."
Tavernake went back to his office. After all, then, things were
to come to a crisis a little earlier than he had thought. He
knew quite well that that report, if he made it honestly, and no
other idea was likely to occur to him, would effectually sever
his connection with Messrs. Dowling, Spence & Company.
CHAPTER IX
THE PLOT THICKENS
The man whom Tavernake had left walking up and down the corridor
lost no time in presenting himself once more at the apartments of
Mrs. Wenham Gardner. He entered the suite without ceremony,
carefully closing both doors behind him. It became obvious then
that his deportment on the occasion of his previous appearance
had been in the nature of a bluff. The air with which he looked
across the room at the woman who watched him was furtive; the
hand which laid his hat upon the table was shaking; there was a
gleam almost of terror in his eyes. The woman remained
impassive, inscrutable, simply watching him. After a moment or
two, however, she spoke--a single monosyllable.
"Well?"
The man broke down.
"Elizabeth," he exclaimed, "you are too--too ghastly! I can't
stand it. You are unnatural."
She stretched herself upon the couch and turned towards him.
"Unnatural, am I?" she remarked. "And what are you?"
He sank into a chair. He had become very flabby indeed.
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