“Two.”
“Bring the other, then, while I change my tie!” commanded Duncan, jumping up and pulling vigorously at his necktie.
Donald stared.
“It’s the best thing yet,” chuckled Duncan. “Get a hustle on, there’s no time to lose.”
Donald, with the puzzled expression still on his face, obediently returned to Tompkins’s room and brought the other volume. “I told him I’d get him Number Two,” he said doubtfully. “I can’t take the wrong one.”
“No, but I can,” declared Duncan, giving the last touch to his blue cravat, which was an exact duplicate of his brother’s. “How long has he to spout?”
“Seven minutes.”
“You just stay here three, and then come along with the right book, as you agreed to. I’m going over with the wrong one. Where d’you sit?”
“Two rows from the front in the aisle seat,” answered Donald, still bewildered.
Tompkins was greatly relieved to see the door open and the twin with a blue tie walk to the seat in the second row, bearing the familiar volume of Bryce under his arm. The speaker’s argument had been planned to lead up gradually to an effective climax in a final quotation from a great authority. For this quotation Tompkins had been nervously waiting.