to think over is conscious of the tow-headed stenographer who waits with her pad ready at one end of his desk. Yet there was nothing reproving about either his looks or his movements. He seemed more like a school-teacher who'd been stumped by a problem handed up to him by the least promising of all his pupils. And it was a problem which in some way had to be worked out.
"We'll just tabulate these few trifles first," he finally announced, as he reached for a sheet of paper. Then he took his little gold pocket-pencil and deftly made out a list, as neat as an auctioneer's, first of the family jewelry and then of the bonds and certificates in the six different bundles. Then he added up the neat little row of figures which he'd jotted down.
"Just a trifle over half a million," he announced, without a ghost of a smile. Then he sat back and watched me as I started to pile the papers and jewelry back in the bag again. I may have been as frightened as a darky in a graveyard; but I didn't intend to let my Hero-Man know it.
"These things shouldn't be left lying around loose, should they?" I offhandedly ventured. I was still altogether uncertain as to which way the cat was going to jump.
