Symes descended the stairs of the Terriberry House in a frame of mind
that was very different from the determined arrogance with which he had
ascended them less than an hour before. He was filled with a humiliating
sense of defeat, and of having acted weakly. He returned mechanically
the salutations of those he passed upon the street and sunk into his
office chair with his hat upon his head, a dazed sense of shock and
humiliation still upon him.
He had been blind as a bat, he told himself, blinder even, for a bat has
an instinct which warns it of danger. The interview which had revealed
the woman's character came in the nature of a revelation in spite of
that he already knew. The part he had been forced to play did not become
more heroic by contemplation, and the only satisfaction he could wring
from it was that he was rid of her--that she would never pollute his
home again. It had cost him his pride and the sacrifice of his
conscience, but he tried to make himself believe that it was worth the
purchase price; yet the thought always came back that he, Andy P. Symes,
had allowed himself to be blackmailed.
The knowledge of Dr. Harpe's unbelievable perfidy would be a shock to
Augusta, but it would terminate the friendship, he told himself, and he
would be relieved of the disagreeable necessity of asserting his
authority too strongly.
Symes removed his hat and flung it upon a near-by chair, then turned to
his desk. A telegram propped conspicuously upon the ink-well proved to
be from Mudge, the promoter, and read:
Have possible investor who wants detailed information. Better come
on at once.