"
Killigrew laughed until the tears started. The very heartiness of it
robbed it of all rudeness. "Good lord! and I was worrying my head off.
Webb, you're all right. Do you need any funds?"
"I believe I have enough." Thomas appeared to be disturbed not in the
least by the older man's hilarity. It was not infectious, because he
did not understand it.
"Glad you came to me. Always come to me when you're in doubt about
anything. I'm no authority on clothes, but my secretary is. I'll have
him take you to a tailor where you can rent a suit for to-night. He'll
take your measure, and by the end of the week . . ." He did not finish
the sentence, but pressed one of the many buttons on his desk. "Clark,
this is Mr. Webb, Mrs. Killigrew's secretary. He wants some clothes.
Take him along with you."
Alone again, Killigrew smiled broadly. The humor of the situation did
not blind him to the salient fact that this Webb was a man of no small
courage. He recognized in this courage a commendable shrewdness also:
Webb wanted the right thing, honest clothes for honest dollars.
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