Harold MacGrath

“ Forbes sat down next to Crawford, who slapped him on the shoulder. He liked Crawford the best of all his friends; Crawford, the kindly, the loyal, the silent, the scholar who wrote brochures on ancient hieroglyphics, who was rich but who lived like a sensible lawyer's clerk; who was always agreeable and charming, whose eyes had that calm steady unchanging gray of the sea where it nears the horizon. He fought shy of women; but he was not one of those mentally deficient apes who call themselves woman-haters. ”

“ The girl smiled in a detached way.
“Now, Jill, old man,” said Forbes on the way up to Jillson's, “a word about this, and I'll never forgive you. Did Mearson speak before the boys?”
"No. You're safe enough. Mum's the word if it will ease you. Mighty good joke on you, though. We've been waiting for you for an hour. Rang up your studio, your club and your favorite bar. Crawford's having his usual run of luck. Four-card draws and all that, and he's four hundred ahead of the game at this minute.”
He's always the devil's luck. But, lucky at cards, unlucky at love.” ”

“ So her name was Mearson. Where had he heard that name before?
“Why, that imbecile of a boy there told me the third floor, left, and here it is.”
“I called up, sir, but you did not hear me, you were in such a hurry. I came on new to-day.”
Jillson smiled. “You may go. I shan't report you this time.” The boy vanished gladly enough. “Now, supposing we send for the police?”
“No,” said Miss Mearson determinedly. “It might attract other thieves. I do not want the police or the newspapers to know anything about the affair. The box will be returned when he finds nothing but letters in it.” ”