Maisie stared blankly at the boxes of papers stacked against the wall, reading the titles marked on the sides: Blenkinsop Estate, Regina versus Wiltshire Flour Millers, Great Southern Railway, Mrs. Stanley Evans (deceased). Everything that happened in this office was a tragedy for someone, she reflected: death, bankruptcy, divorce, prosecution.
When the door opened again, a different man came out, a man of striking appearance. Not much older than Maisie, he had the face of a biblical prophet, with dark eyes staring out from under black eyebrows, a big nose with flaring nostrils, and a bushy beard. He looked familiar, and after a moment she decided he reminded her a little of her father, although Papa had never looked so fierce.
"Maisie?" he said. "Maisie Robinson?"
His clothes were a little odd, as if they had been bought in a foreign country, and his accent was American. "Yes, I'm Maisie Robinson," she said. "Who the devil are you?"
"Don't you recognize me?"
Suddenly she remembered a wire-thin boy, ragged and barefoot, with the first shadow of a moustache on his lip and a do-or-die look in his eye. "Oh, my God!" she yelped. "Danny!" For a moment she forgot her troubles as she ran to his arms. "Danny, is it really you?"
He hugged her so hard it hurt. "Sure it's me," he said.
"Who?" April was saying. "Who is he?"
"My brother!" Maisie said. "The one that ran away to America! He came back!"
Danny broke their embrace to stare at her. "How did you get to be beautiful?" he said. "You used to be a skinny little runt!"
She touched his beard. "I might have known you without all this fur round your gob."
There was a discreet cough from behind Danny, and Maisie looked up to see an elderly man standing in the doorway looking faintly disdainful. "Apparently we have been successful," he said.
Danny said: "Mr. Jay, may I present my sister, Miss Robinson."
"Your servant, Miss Robinson. If I may make a suggestion ... ?"
"Why not?" said Danny.
"There is a coffeehouse in Theobald's Road, just a few steps away. You must have a lot to talk about."
He obviously wanted them out of his office, but Danny did not seem to care what Mr. Jay wanted. Whatever else might have happened he had not learned to be deferential. "What do you say, girls? Would you like to talk here, or shall we go and drink coffee?"
"Let's go," Maisie said.
Mr. Jay added: "And perhaps you might come back to settle your account a little later, Mr. Robinson?"
"I won't forget. Come on, girls."
