Read Online Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley - Free Book Online

of sympathy crossed the girl’s face. “Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you, but Mr Southey’s just told Mr Fisher he saw you come in a quarter of an hour late this morning.”
    â€œOh hell,” groaned the young man. “That’s torn it. All right, thanks, Miss Merriman,” he added with an attempt at jauntiness. “Tell the little rat to get his cup of cold poison ready, and I’ll be along to drink it.”
    The girl went out, and the others looked at each other.
    â€œMy God!” burst out Staithes. “Southey used to be a decent chap once. It’s a bit thick seeing decent fellows turned into skunks and taletellers and toadies just because they’re afraid of losing their jobs.”
    â€œYou’re right, Owen,” said young Bennett. “And what’s more, I’m going to tell him so. So long, you chaps. Wait for the condemned man here.”
    Bennett was out of the room only five minutes. While he was away Staithes and young Butts exchanged no more than three sentences.
    â€œSouthey’s married, you know,” said the latter.
    â€œWell, so am I,” retorted Staithes. “But I’m damned if I’ll come down to that sort of level.”
    â€œThen you’ll be getting yours,” replied young Butts simply.
    Bennett, when he came back, wore a slightly bewildered air.
    â€œNo,” he said in reply to the question on the others’ faces. “No, I haven’t been sacked. He said if it had been anyone else he’d have sacked me, but he thought—what the blazes did he think?—that I was a good man really, or some rot. And he asked me to lunch.”
    â€œLunch?”
    â€œYes. I think he’s mad.”
    The other two exchanged a long glance.
    â€œThen you didn’t tell him what you thought of him?”
    â€œUnder the circs,” said Bennett, “no.”
    Once more there was a knock at the door. “Mr Staithes?” said the office boy. “Couldn’t find you in your own room, sir. Sorry, sir,” he added awkwardly. “We’ll all be sorry, sir.”
    Staithes took the envelope with barely a glance.
    â€œThanks, Jim . . . Well, Benney, I think I’ll tell him myself. It won’t do any good, but it won’t do any harm. I may give him a clout as well.”
    He went out.
    â€œI told him only two-three minutes ago he’d be getting his,” said young Butts.
    â€œAnd how the blazes,” demanded Bennett savagely, “does Fisher think we’re going to run the Peepshow without an art editor? That’s what I want to know.”
    â€œAsk him at lunch,” suggested young Butts, lounging out of the room.
    As Bennett sat down once more at his desk Mr Todhunter uncoiled himself from the chair in which he had been partially concealed behind a filing cabinet.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” he said courteously, “my name’s Todhunter. Wilson, of the London Review, asked me to let him know whether you could lunch with him today.”
    Bennett turned slightly glazed eyes on him. “Today? No, not today.”
    â€œI’ll tell him,” promised Mr Todhunter and escaped into the passage. He did not wonder at that time why Bennett’s eyes looked so curiously glazed, but he was surprised that the young man should not have asked him how long he had been there and how much he had overheard.
    On the stone stairs leading down to the street Mr Todhunter shook his head several times. His mind might not have been quite made up even yet, but he had reached the stage of wondering where he could buy a revolver and what formalities had to be observed first.
    Someone coming up the stairs bumped into him. Vaguely Mr Todhunter realized it was young Butts.
    â€œSorry,” said young Butts.
    â€œYes,” said Mr Todhunter absently. “Er—can you tell me where I could buy a revolver?”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œIt doesn’t