The door swung silently back to frame an impassive man-servant
dressed in livery. To Orde's inquiry he stated that Miss Bishop had
gone out to the theatre. The young man left his name and a message
of regret. At this the footman, with an irony so subtle as to be
quite lost on Orde, demanded a card. Orde scribbled a line in his
note-book, tore it out, folded it, and left it. In it he stated his
regret, his short residence in the city, and desired an early
opportunity to call. Then he departed down the brownstone steps,
totally unconscious of the contempt he had inspired in the heart of
the liveried man behind him.
He retired early and arose early, as had become his habit. When he
descended to the office the night clerk, who had not yet been
relieved, handed him a note delivered the night before. Orde ripped
it open eagerly.
"MY DEAR MR. ORDE:
"I was so sorry to miss you that evening because of a stupid play.
Come around as early as you can to-morrow morning. I shall expect
you.
"Sincerely yours,
"CARROLL BISHOP."
Orde glanced at the clock, which pointed to seven. He breakfasted,
read the morning paper, finally started leisurely in the direction
of West Ninth Street.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202