He had another attribute; he was intensely moral. The "Cawthorne" was
his pride, but he had a constant fear that some undesirable--that is,
immoral--person would find lodgment in his caravansary. For certain
reasons, Mr. Cass was indispensable. He had been a "high roller"
until he came under the Rev. Mr. Borrowscale's tutelage.
"Mr. Cass, you know the bad when you see it--I do not. The reputation
of my house must be like Caesar's ghost--above suspicion."
He had said "ghost." He had seen but two plays--"Hamlet" and "Julius
Caesar," and for that reason his dramatic inaccuracy may be excused.
So Mr. Cass became a moral sleuth, and woe betide an applicant for
rooms, and occasional board, who could not produce unimpeachable
references, and point to an unsullied record in the past.
Miss Dana's respectability and social standing had been abundantly
vouched for, and her financial responsibility had been demonstrated
by monthly payments in advance.
It was the first evening Quincy had been out since his illness.
"Is Miss Dana in?" asked Quincy as he presented his card to Mr. Cass.
"I am quite positive she is. I am strengthened in this belief by the
fact that she had her supper sent up to her room. A fine specimen of
womanhood, and a remarkable appetite for so lovely a creature."
Quincy had an inclination to brain him with the telephone stand, but
restrained his murderous impulse.
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