“And maybe you’re hungry.”
There was no reply to this, but Markham’s eager eyes strayed in the direction of the lighted waiting room and its gleaming coffee tank and polished lunch counter.
“Come on,” urged Frank, keeping up a cheery, good-fellow air. “I’m ready for a bite, too.”
Markham held back as Frank tried to pull him along with him.
“See here—”
“Newton—Frank Newton, that’s me.”
“Well, I can’t go with you. In the first place, I’m a sight for respectable people. In the next place,” went on Markham, “there’s some people I don’t want to risk meeting.”
Frank reflected for a moment or two.
“Will you stay here for five minutes till I come back?” he asked.
“Why, yes, if you want me to,” was the reply.