Didactic fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
It was late in the afternoon when she had finished other, more urgent
errands, and, turning into the lofty La Salle Street building, was
whirled up to the twelfth floor. The middle-aged stenographer in
Wheeler's office looked up on her entrance, and said that the lawyer
had not left, but was engaged with some gentlemen. Would she wait?
She sat down in the quiet, carpeted outer office, from which radiated
several small offices. The doors of all these rooms were open except
one, and through the ground-glass panel in this door she could see the
dark forms of several men. Presently the stenographer pushed her
papers into the drawer of her desk, and fetched her hat and coat.
"I think they must be 'most through," she remarked pleasantly. "You go
right in when they come out."
Then she gathered up her gloves and left. Little noise came from the
hall, except the occasional sliding back and forth of elevator gates.
The vast hive seemed to be deserted at this hour, and few places in the
city were so quiet and lonesome as this sober law office. The murmur
of voices in the inner room was the only sound of life. Gradually the
voices grew louder, but Helen paid no attention to them until a man's
voice, clear and shrill with exasperation, penetrated distinctly to the
outer office.
"No, Wheeler!" the man almost shouted. "We won't compromise this. I
won't have it covered up or whitewashed. We'll go to the bottom, here
and now. Let us find out what all this double-dealing means. Let us
know, now, whether the work on that building is being done honestly or
not, and whether our architect is working for us or for the contractor
against us."
It was Pemberton's voice, and Helen recognized it. From the first
words she had grasped the arms of her chair--a sudden clutch at her
heart. She held herself rigid, while behind the door a confused murmur
of men all talking at once drowned Pemberton's voice. She tried to
think whether she ought to leave the office, but her strength had gone,
and she trembled in her chair. Presently Pemberton's high voice rang
out again:--
"No, sir! We've given you this opportunity to explain your conduct and
clear yourself. You haven't done it, sir! You try to bluster it
through. There is something wrong in this business, and we shall find
out what it is. Not another dollar will be paid out on your vouchers
until our experts have gone through all the papers and examined every
foot of the construction so far done. No, Wheeler, I will resign if
you like. You asked me to join you. I was glad to do so. I
considered it an honor and a duty, and I have made sacrifices for this
trust. But if I stay on the board, this thing must be cleared up!"
Another high and angry voice answered this time:--
"You'd better not make loose charges, Mr. Pemberton, until you are in a
position to prove what you say. I won't stand your talk; I don't
propose to stay here and let you bully me--I'm going!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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