"If Mr. Graves calls, bring him in here," he said to the stenographer, as he turned to his mail. He had some final matters to attend to, and then he should take the train. If the contractor came back before he got away, he would see him. Half an hour later, while he was still tearing open his letters and jotting notes for the answers, his door opened and Graves walked in. He had less assurance than on the afternoon before; the strain of the situation was beginning to tell even on his coarse fibre. "So you've come to!" he exclaimed with an attempt to be at his ease, taking a chair beside the desk. "What do you want?" the architect demanded sharply. "Say, did you see the papers this morning?" Graves asked, ignoring the question. Hart shook his head; he had no curiosity to know what the newspapers were saying. "They're making an awful kick, worse than I expected. It's mostly politics, of course. They've got the mayor on the run already. He's suspended the head of the department, and Bloom was a good friend of mine. That'll scare the rest considerable. And then there's talk of bringing civil suits against the hotel company and the officers individually." He paused to see what impression this news might make on the architect. "They can't get much out of me," Hart answered quietly. "I turned over to Wheeler pretty nearly every dollar I have got. That's on account of the school business," he added, thinking the contractor would not comprehend rightly his meaning. "It came out of the school and might as well go back to the trustees." Graves stared at him in disgust. He had had some idea of forcing the architect to pay part of the expense of "keeping the City Hall quiet." Now the man had outwitted him and put his money beyond his reach. "So you've seen Mr. Wheeler?" "Just come from there." "He told you he'd help us out of this hole?" "We didn't discuss it." "I've seen to Meyer myself. He's where he can't do no harm. And I guess it's all right over there,"--he pointed with his thumb in the direction of the city hall,--"though it'll cost a sight of money if those fellers lose their jobs. Now, if we keep quiet, they can't do nothing but bring their suits for damages. I ain't afraid of that." "I suppose not," Hart replied dryly. "It doesn't touch you. They're all straw names in the corporation papers but mine, aren't they?" "Just now there's this damned coroner," Graves went on, ignoring the last remark. "The inquest begins to-morrow. He'll try to fix the blame, of course, and hold some one to the Grand Jury. He's got to, to quiet the papers." "I suppose so," Hart assented wearily. "But they've got nothing to go on if you only hold your tongue," Graves ripped out incautiously. "And you've got to hold your jaw!" The man's dictatorial manner angered the architect. He rose hastily from his desk, gathering some papers and putting them into his bag.