"Down, please."
He closed his check book with a snap, and involuntarily fumbled about his well arranged desk, replacing a paper here and a contract there.
"Hum!" he mused, "I thought there was something wrong with Harry."
The desk telephone rang sharply. He picked up the instrument and placed the receiver to his ear.
"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo!" he jerked out irritably. "Yes--yes, this is John Boland.
Who wants me?"
His acute features contracted as he listened to the reply.
"Oh, Martin Druce," he said. "Want to see me about the lease of the Cafe Sinister, eh?"
His mind worked rapidly while he again listened.
"All right," he bl.u.s.tered finally, "all right, see you in fifteen minutes. Yes,--yes, here!"
He hung up the receiver and took a cigar from his pocket, thoughtfully biting off the end, as he muttered half aloud:
"Martin Druce, eh? Cafe Sinister--Ah!"
His lips ceased moving as he looked about him. He was still thinking deeply; then he struck a match and lighted the cigar at the glowing flame which he contemplated for a second before extinguishing it. With a look of one who has just solved a problem, he cast aside the charred ember and gritted:
"I guess so."
He seized a sheet of paper and rapidly scratched a few words on its white surface, settling back comfortably in the big chair as Harry came in.
"All right, Governor," called out the son; but he paused in astonishment when he saw that his father was alone. "Why--why, where"s Patience?"
"Miss Welcome had to go,--she said," returned the other, calmly puffing his cigar.
"Didn"t she leave any word for me?"
"Yes, she said she"d see you again."
"When?" asked Harry, impatiently. "Why, I don"t even know where she lives."
"I thought of that," replied his father, as he handed the memorandum slip to Harry, on which he had just written. "Here"s her address."
Harry took the bit of paper gratefully, and looked at it.
"Why--"
"What"s the matter?" John Boland surveyed the wrapper of his cigar with keen interest, deftly closing a small broken place in it.
"This address!" exclaimed Harry.
"Well, what about it?"
"It"s in the lowest, most depraved section of the city."
"Yes, I noticed that."
Harry looked up at his father quizzically.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Governor," began Harry pointedly, a new idea beginning to dawn upon him, "if you do not know that a great deal of your property is rented and used for the most immoral purposes how do you know this address so well?"
"Why," spluttered Boland, senior, "I--I"ve read the papers."
"But this vile section of the city that you own has never been published."
"Look here, Harry," demanded his father, aggressively, "do you doubt my word?"
"I do," was the firm reply.
"I"m your father," he retorted angrily.
"You are," agreed Harry, "but this is a matter of right and wrong, and you can"t fool me again as you have all these years."
"I"ll show you who"s master," threatened John Boland, grimly.
"It"s your privilege to try," conceded the son with suppressed anger.
"Hold on--hold on," hedged his father, apologetically, "don"t let"s get mad about it. Finish up that contract and then--"
"And then?"
Harry"s manner was alert, defensive, but wholly questioning.
"Then we"ll talk this over calmly."
"All right, but Governor--" the young man turned at the door, grasping the contract in one hand as he put out the other warningly and pointed with his forefinger to the sc.r.a.p of paper he had laid on the desk, on which was written Patience"s supposed address: "Let me give you a piece of advice. Don"t try to fool me."
John Boland stood motionless for a moment looking after his son; then he clenched his hand and brought it down on the desk with a forcible thump, as he thought:
"I"ve got to do something--quick."
"Well, made up your mind to see me, did you, Mr. Boland?"
Martin Druce"s suave voice recalled Boland from the revery into which he had lapsed.
"Yes," he replied quickly, walking to the door through which Harry had gone and closing it.
"Now, don"t talk," he commanded as he returned to his desk. "Listen! You and Anson want a renewal of the lease for the Cafe Sinister, don"t you?"