THE BRASS BOWL
to communicate with his legal adviser upon "a matter of pressing moment."
"Bother!" said Maitland. "What the dickens"
He pulled up short, eyes lighting. "That's so, you know," he argued: "Bannerman will be delighted, and—and even business is better than rushing round town and pretending to enjoy yourself when it's hotter than the seven brass hinges of hell and you can't think of anything else. … I'll do it!"
He stepped quickly to the corner of the room, where stood the telephone upon a small side table, sat down, and, receiver to ear, gave Central a number. In another moment he was in communication with his attorney's residence.
"Is Mr. Bannerman in? I would like to"
•••••
"Why, Mr. Bannerman! How do you do?"
•••••
"You're looking a hundred per cent better"
•••••
"Bad, bad word! Naughty!"
14
