"It's pretty hard to fool the Scotch," I observed as he poured out Black and White, and watched me fill a glass with gin as full as the water glasses beside it. But he did not see me change the glasses and drink the water instead of the liquor.
"Scotty, you seem troubled. How is it you are all dressed up instead of burning gasoline on the blue?"
"Think I'm in bad," he said, eyeing me closely. "I've had me doots, and your nosing around settles it."
"Scotty—you saw enough last night to know I have a first-class license for the U. S. N. I have served," I continued, as he poured out more Black and White, "and can convince you I have worked as a first-class mechanic in the German and French shipyards."
"Think you did—I know you did—and all the time was using another tool on paper that went to Washington. But I believe you are on the level for all that, and I don't mind telling——"
"Then, Scotty, what's the use of being so tight? Will you tell me something?"
"Weel—weel—maybe," with a vicious glitter as he glanced down at his empty glass.
"Tell me how you know so well where this man Canby's place is up on the Keys?" I asked, ordering again.
"I might have told you that last night, but ye never asked me, and that has a lot to do with me just now. I don't like the way things are going with Bulow and Company. In fact, I'm downright suspicious, and I'm ready to throw up me job."
"Now you're getting down to it. What do you know about Canby?"