What he saw so astonished him that he at once took from his mouth the cigar he was smoking and rose from his seat.

He had expected a gaunt old maid with spectacles, and here was a stylish, good-looking young woman, who could not possibly be over twenty-five.

There was surely some mistake.

This slip of a girl could not have written "The American Octopus." He advanced to greet Shirley.
"You wish to see me, Madame ?" he asked courteously.

There were times when even John Burkett Ryder could be polite.
"Yes," replied Shirley, her voice trembling a little; in spite of her efforts to keep cool.