“All right. But tell me first, is Mrs. Crocker all right? The
correspondents are sure to get at her, you know. Can she meet them, and
keep cool?”
“Yes,” said I, “she can do that.”
His gaze lingered a moment on my face.
“I thought so,” he replied. “She looks like the right kind.”
For a little time he sat back in his chair, smoking and meditating. Then
he said:
“I'll get the Consul-General on the wire and ask him to come over
himself. We'll have to tell him everything, but I think we can satisfy
him--I can bear witness that he was drunk and making threats. So can
you. The little Frenchman from the other hotel must have seen the thing.
He sputtered around like a crazy man.”
“Yes,” said I, “Crocker was alive when they started over here in the
automobile.”
“I gathered that. Well, we can give a pretty complete story, among us
all. I don't know just how much you can tell, of course, but I advise
you to come out with everything you know. Then, when we are all
together, we can agree on what we'll give to the press. The managers of
both hotels will be glad to keep it quiet. And the Consul-General's all
right--he'll help us out to that extent, I think. You see, there's no
public interest to consider, nothing to hide but news. It's the lady
being involved, you know.”
He smoked a moment longer, then concluded:
“I think we can swing it. You go up now and advise the lady to keep very
quiet and follow instructions, while I'm getting Tientsin on the wire.
Then meet me here.”
When I came down, twenty minutes later, he met me with a cheerful sort
of steadiness and led the way to a corner of the lounge.
“The old boy's coming himself,” he said, as we dropped into chairs. “I'm
dam' glad. This is no job for student interpreters.”
For a few moments we talked along in a desultory way. We had to wait for
a few hours--no escaping that. I could see that the Cincinnati man had
assumed the task of keeping me occupied, and I liked him for it.