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He led her through the store to a closed door, which he unlocked with a key. His office was elegantly furnished, and it looked more like an apartment than a place of business,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with no desk, just couches,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], chairs, and tables artfully placed. The walls were covered with old masters.
"Would you care for a drink?" Conrad Morgan offered. "Whiskey, cognac,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], or perhaps sherry?"
"No,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], nothing, thank you."
Tracy was suddenly nervous. She had dismissed the idea that this man would do anything to help her, yet at the same time she found herself desperately hoping that he could.
"Betty Franciscus suggested that I look you up, Mr. Morgan. She said you--- you helped people who have been in... trouble." She could not bring herself to say prison.
Conrad Morgan clasped his hands together, and Tracy noticed how beautifully manicured they were.
"Poor Betty. Such a lovely lady. She was unlucky, you know."
"Unlucky?"
"Yes. She got caught."
"I--- I don't understand."
"It's really quite simple, Miss Whitney. Betty used to work for me. She was well protected. Then the poor dear fell in love with a chauffeur from New Orleans and went off on her own. And, well... they caught her."
Tracy was confused. "She worked for you here as a saleslady?"

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