"
Thomas confessed that he had no card. The assistant manager grew
distinctly chilling.
"If you will be so kind as to inform Mr. Killigrew that Mr. Webb, Mrs.
Killigrew's private secretary . . ."
"Why didn't you say that at once, Mr. Webb? Here, boy; tell Mr.
Killigrew that Mr. Webb wishes to see him. You might just as well
follow the boy."
Killigrew was smoking, and perusing the baseball edition of his
favorite evening paper. All this red-tape to approach a man who wasn't
doing anything more vital than that! Thomas smiled. It was a
wonderful people.
"Why, hello, Webb! What's the matter? Anything wrong at the
house?"--anxiously.
"No, Mr. Killigrew. I came to see you on a personal matter."
Killigrew dropped the newspaper on his desk, a little frown between his
eyes. He made no inquiry.
"Miss Killigrew tells me that you will not be home this evening, and
that I am to take her and Mrs. Killigrew to the theater."
"Anything in the way to prevent you?" Killigrew appeared vastly
relieved for some reason.
"As a matter of fact, sir, I haven't the proper clothes; and I thought
you might advise me where to go to obtain them.
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