thisRootHe got up and walked to his window, to look out of it, in silence. She sat with her eyes closed, as white as despair, completely helpless. He glanced at her once and then turned away again, mercifully.
Miss Kennedy entered, behind her, from an inner door—a small dark woman with a tragic face. She worked usually in the file room, and she was dressed for the office. She closed the door behind her and stood waiting with her hand on the door knob.
“Miss Kennedy,” he said, “we have a case here in which we have to work a little plant. A young woman in a downtown office under Miss Root—” He indicated Miss Root with a warning movement of the eyes—“has been forging a number of compromising letters in the name of a client of ours. We’ve got a confession on the promise that we’ll not betray
