"Rope 'em in," advised Newmark. "It's Saturday, and we don't want
to let things simmer over Sunday, if we can help it."
About eleven o'clock a clerk of the Welton Lumber Co. entered Mr.
Welton's private office to deliver to Orde a note.
"This just came by special messenger," he explained.
Orde, with an apology, tore it open. It was from Heinzman, and
requested an immediate interview. Orde delayed only long enough to
get Mr. Welton's signature, then hastened as fast as his horse could
take him across the drawbridge to the village.
Heinzman he found awaiting him. The little German, with his round,
rosy cheeks, his dot of a nose, his big spectacles, and his rotund
body, looked even more than usual like a spider or a Santa Clause--
Orde could not decide which.
"I haf been thinking of that bond," he began, waving a pudgy hand
toward a seat, "and I haf been talking with Proctor."
"Yes," said Orde hopefully.
"I suppose you would not be prepared to gif a bond?"
"I hardly think so."
"Vell, suppose ve fix him this way," went on Heinzman, clasping his
hands over his stomach and beaming through his spectacles. "Proctor
and I haf talked it ofer, and ve are agreet that the probosition is
a good one.
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