"Good," he said finally, with satisfaction, "the last copy for the catalogue. It will make twenty-four printed pages. The cuts I have had made and the cuts the supply houses have loaned me make a very fine showing. Well, the first two weeks show up pretty good. Business started, and paying expenses. Why, that's queer," exclaimed Frank with a start, as he chanced to glance at the clock--"Markham has been gone a full half-hour."
It was queer. Markham had less than three squares to go on his errand. Usually he made the trip to Haven Bros. in five minutes.
Frank walked to the door and looked out. He stood there, growing restless and anxious, as ten minutes went by. Then he grew restless, put on his cap, waited five minutes longer, and, closing the office door, went out to the street.
"Pshaw," he said, looking up and down the street, "what am I worrying about? Got that Dale Wacker on my mind, and it has upset me. Markham is probably chatting with Bob Haven. Well, I've gone so far, I'll step over to the printing office and see."
Frank walked rapidly to the principal street, and up the flight of stairs in a business block to Haven Bros.'s office.
As he entered he noticed all hands busy at cases and presses. Bob, shirt sleeves rolled up, was working on some chases on an imposing stone. Darry was reading proof at his desk.
But there was no Markham. Frank experienced a sensation of dread for which he could not account. He tried to keep cool, but the first word he spoke as he approached Darry made the latter look up quickly.
"Got the money I sent you, Darry?" asked Frank.
"Oh, then, he's doing some other errand first," said Darry. "Sit down, if you're going to wait for him."
"No, I'll watch them doing things," answered Frank, with an assumed lightness of tone.
He strolled about the neat little office, pretending to be interested. It was a dead failure. A lump of lead seemed bearing him down. Frank glanced at his watch. An hour had passed since he had sent Markham on his errand.
"Be back soon, Darry," he said, and went out of the printing office with a dull, sick feeling at heart.
Frank returned to his office. Markham was not there. He went back to the print shop.
"Markham been here yet?" he inquired in a failing voice to Darry.