"Step in," says the voice pleasantly.

The action has begun as Corkey has not wished. He is both angry and
contused. A spasm seizes his throat. He strangles. He coughs. He
sneezes.

There is an opening of street doors on this alarming report, and Corkey
pushes Noah before him into Esther Lockwin's parlors. The man's
jet-black hair is wet with perspiration. The boy strives to stand
behind, but Corkey feels more secure if the companion be held in front.

"Let me take your hats," she says calmly. She goes to the hall-tree
with the hats. She shuts the door as she re-enters.

"Take those seats," she says.

But Corkey must pull himself together. This affair is compromising the
great Corkey himself. He does not sit. He must begin.

"Me and this coon, madam, we suppose you want to hear how Mr. Lockwin
cashed in--how he--"

"You, of course, are Mr. Corkey, my husband's political opponent?"

"That's what I am, or was, madam; and you ain't no sorrier for that
than me."

"The boy and you escaped?"