MR. DEL MAR,
What you request is coming. Answer to sign of the ring.—SMITH.
"Good," muttered Del Mar as he finished reading. "Strange, what a little gold will do—when you know how to dispose of it."
He smiled cynically to himself at the sentiment.
. . . . . . .
At the little railroad station, they were quite proud of the fact that at least two of the four hacks had been replaced already by taxicabs.
It was, then, with some surprise and not a little open jealousy that they saw a new taxicab drive up and take its stand by the platform.
If the chauffeur, transformed from the lonely fisherman, had expected a cordial reception, he might better have stayed before his hut, for the glances the other drivers gave him were as black and lowering as the clouds he had been looking at.
The new chauffeur got off his seat. Instead of trying to brazen it out, he walked over to the others who were standing in a group waiting for the approaching train whose whistle had already sounded.
"I'm not going to locate here permanently," he said, pulling out a roll of bills as he spoke. "Leave any fare I claim to me," he added, passing a bill of a good denomination to each of the four jehus.