Mr. Dupont finished his perusal of the news and shoved back his chair, leaving the special scarcely tasted.
"That was fine," he ejaculated. "Wish I had time to finish it. But I have a number of things to 'tend to before going to the office. By the way, where did you say that new market was located?"
He rose as he spoke and as the waitress again gave him the location of the building he sought, he pressed a substantial tip into her hand and hurried to the street. At the entrance to the California Market, he mingled with the throng and elbowed his way through the crowd which packed a corner of the big building. Then he adjusted his nose-glasses and peered over their heads.
Behind a rudely constructed counter of rough boards three smiling young men were endeavoring to satisfy the demands made upon them for the rapidly disappearing contents of a number of fish-boxes behind the counter. All about them were hastily scrawled signs which the public read with interest.
WE HAVE DECLARED WAR ON THE HIGH COST OF LIVING.—FRESH FISH AT FIFTY PER CENT. OFF.—WE ARE DEALING DIRECT WITH THE PEOPLE.—SHOOT SQUARE WITH US AND WE WILL SHOOT SQUARE WITH YOU.
While Mr. Dupont read, another sign made its appearance.
"SOLD OUT. COME AGAIN."
Winfield & Camby's office force were surprised to find the manager on the job when they reached the salesrooms.
"Send me Mr. Black."