“But he can’t do that,” rasped Mike. “We can go ahead without him. It’s time. Hadn’t you better call the meetin’ to order, Mr. Graham?”
At this moment, footsteps were heard on the stairs, and the door opened, to admit the puffing Kingsbridge grocer, who paused to remove his hat, mop his shining, moist dome, and look the assemblage over.
“Good evenin’, ever’body,” he said pleasantly. “On time, ain’t I?”
“Just about, an’ that’s all,” answered Riley. “Where’s th’ slip’ry guy that’s caused all this trouble?”
“You mean Locke? Ain’t he here?”
“I mean Hazelton, ’n’ he ain’t here.”
“That’s strange,” said Cope, plainly a trifle disturbed. “He lef’ Kingsbridge on the early train this mornin’, sayin’ that he’d meet me here to-night. I thought sure I’d find him waitin’.”
“Left town, hey?” cried Riley. “Left town this mornin’! Well, I swear! So help me, he’s skipped!”
He was not the only one through whose head had passed the same thought, but Henry Cope immediately raised an agitated protest against such an idea, asserting his belief that the absent man would put in an appearance. They were induced to wait a while, although it was likely that Cope was the only one who was not satisfied that time was being wasted. In his heart, even the grocer began to doubt.
As the minutes ticked away, Cope looked anxious, Riley smoked and growled, Hutchinson remained cool, and Benton King fidgeted. Finally Anson Graham said: