II
Barney Creighton arrived late at his office the next morning. The clock on Old Trinity had already chimed ten before he blew in like a whirlwind.
"Mr. Duncan, of Duncan & Co. has called you up four times," his stenographer told him as he threw his hat and coat upon a chair in his usual hurried manner.
"Get him on the 'phone, please," he replied shortly. "I was late this morning because I had an appointment with Smith & Weston."
Two problems puzzled Miss Alicia Raymond. Why did he take the trouble to explain where he had been, and why did he smile in such an odd manner as he told her?
In the meantime, Barney Creighton was looking over his mail. Mrs. Lindsay wanted a donation for the colored orphan asylum.
"Nothing doing," he growled. "I'll never have any use for that."
He picked up another letter. "Can I send you a box of Havana Perfectos?" he read.
"Yes," he wrote across the bottom of the page, "if you mean it for a gift."
The telephone buzzed at that moment. Seizing the receiver, he began, "Hello! Duncan & Co.? … No. … Oh, what number are you calling, please?…
