Jeroloman wheeled like a rat. He looked at the cage. It had vanished. He
looked at the other. Above it a moving finger pointed upward.
Cold-blooded, meticulously precise, intensely respectable, none the
less, for one delirious second, madness seized him. He wished to God he
could hurry down, overtake the impostor, lure her into his own office,
frighten her out of such wits as she possessed and buy her off for
tuppence. Instantly Respectability had him by the collar. He could not.
Precision gave him a kick. Wouldn't stand if he did.
Deeply he swore. The millions were gone. Hands down, without a struggle,
the Paliser estate was rooked. No fault of his though, and mechanically
he adjusted that hat. Damn her!
In the street below, superbly, with sidereal indifference, the sun shone
down on the imbecile activities of man. The storm of the day before that
had drenched Cassy so abundantly, had been blown afar, blown from her
forever. The sky in which a volcano had formed was remote and empty.
"Ouf!" Cassy muttered in relief and muttered, too: "Now for the agent!"
She had reached the corner. Just beyond was the subway. It would land
her within two squares of the man's greasy office. Now, though,
suddenly, she felt a gnawing. A sandwich would taste good. Two
sandwiches would taste better. Then, quite as suddenly, that vision, the
street with it, everything, except one thing only, vanished.
Blocking the way stood Lennox.
"Where to in such a hurry?"
Easily she smiled and told him. "I'm going to buy a rhinoceros." But for
all the easiness of it her tongue nearly tripped. "And what are you
doing?"
"I? Oh! Cleaning up."
Wall Street is not a Japanese tea-garden. It lacks the klop-klop of
fountains. Yet, even in its metallic roar there may--for exceptional
beings--be peace there. Not for Cassy, though. She could have screamed.
A moment only. Lennox turned and both moved on.
"Let's get out of this."