I would not
easily forgive myself if this affair of ours caused you to fall
ill."
"Oh, I am all right--a little tired, that's all. I don't sleep
well."
"It is worry over this thing."
Cortlandt smiled crookedly. "I am not the one to worry; I am not
the one at the head. Surely you know what people say--that I am
her office-boy?"
Garavel found it hard to laugh this off gracefully. "You are too
modest," he said. "I admire the trait, but I also chance to know
the wonderful things you have accomplished. If people say such
things, it is because they do not know and are too small to
understand your voluntary position. It is very fine of you to let
your wife share your work, senor." But he shook his head as the
door closed behind him, really doubting that Cortlandt would prove
physically equal to the coming struggle.
It was about this time--perhaps two weeks after Kirk had replied
to his father's letter--that Runnels called him in one day to ask:
"Do you know a man named Clifford?"
"No."
"He dropped in this morning, claiming to be a newspaper man from
the States; wanted to know all about everything on the Canal and--
the usual thing. He didn't talk like a writer, though. I thought
you might know him; he asked about you.
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