"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been working on this thing?"
"Eleven months and a 'alf, sir."
"Have I made any gain at all?"
"Ye—es, sir. Oh, yes."
Reed smiled grimly.
"How much am I going to keep on gaining?"
"Well, sir," Ramsdell's accent was supposed to be encouraging; "you see, there's always 'ope, sir."
"I'm glad of so much. Well, never mind about that now. I want to send a telegram. Please get the blanks."
With Ramsdell seated by his side, blanks in one hand, fountain pen in the other, Opdyke paused to consider.