hind them! How small and slender and white her feet!
Under his shut eyelids he had vision of her at her little table, offering him coffee. Hope for him! . . . Ready-made man . . . hand-me-down man . . . worried about this section because it was running out of men like him. . . . What had she been talking about? Whom had she mocked? Himself, obviously. But what did she mean by what she said?
Now he had vision of her coming up to Ketlar after he had accused her—her who had fought so for him! Words of Mrs. Hoswick's last report echoed: "She's back in her room; she's broke down at last. She's crying terrible, but not saying anything."
Calvin's servant announced that Mr. G. A. Hoberg was calling upon important business connected with the Ketlar investigation. The servant said that Mr. Hoberg was a tall, well-dressed man, about forty, with red hair. He looked like a well-off business man.
"Show him up," bid Calvin, and knew that he was receiving the employer of Joan Daisy Royle before Hoberg introduced himself.
"I am here at the instance of Miss Royle's father," Hoberg asserted. "And after a conference with my lawyer," he added.
Calvin waited and continued to estimate his caller, who evidently was Swedish. Probably, thought Calvin, he had been born in this country, of immigrant parents, educated in American schools, had prospered in the contracting business, and so here he was, at forty, broad-shouldered and big-handed and red-haired, very well dressed and exceedingly sure of himself as he set about telling Calvin Clarke of the laws of the country.
"I understand that you have in custody Fred Ketlar and Miss Royle."
