"I should like very much to see Miss Tarrant, if you will be so good as to take in my card.'
The guardian of order, well planted just between him and the handle of the door, took from Ransom the morsel of pasteboard which he held out to him, read slowly the name inscribed on it, turned it over and looked at the back, then returned it to his interlocutor. 'Well, I guess it ain't much use,' he remarked.
'How can you know that? You have no business to decline my request.'
'Well, I guess I have about as much business as you have to make it.' Then he added, 'You are just the very man she wants to keep out.'
'I don't think Miss Tarrant wants to keep me out,' Ransom returned.
'I don't know much about her, she hasn't hired the hall. It's the other one—Miss Chancellor; it's her that runs this lecture.'
'And she has asked you to keep me out? How absurd!' exclaimed Ransom, ingeniously.
'She tells me you're none too fit to be round alone; you have got this thing on the brain. I guess you'd better be quiet,' said the policeman.
'Quiet? Is it possible to be more quiet than I am?'
'Well, I've seen crazy folks that were a good deal like you. If you want to see the speaker why don't you go and set round in the hall, with the rest of the public?' And the policeman waited, in an immovable, ruminating, reasonable manner, for an answer to this inquiry.
Ransom had one, on the instant, at his service. 'Because I don't want simply to see her; I want also to speak to her—in private.'
'Yes—it's always intensely private,' said the policeman. 'Now I wouldn't lose the lecture if I was you. I guess it will do you good.'
'The lecture?' Ransom repeated, laughing. 'It won't take place.'
'Yes it will—as quick as the organ stops.' Then the policeman added, as to himself, 'Why the devil don't it?'
