“The very man,” he agreed. “Will you see him?”
“Yes, sir; right away,” and a moment later he was hurrying away in the direction of Reddy’s home.
It may be explained in passing that, in Reddy Magraw’s home, Allan West was regarded with a degree of veneration and affection possible only to warm Irish hearts.
In the old days, by an accident, it is true, he had brought Reddy out of a dangerous condition of insanity, and, since that time, any member of the Magraw household would have cheerfully risked life and limb for him. So, when, in answer to his knock, Mrs. Magraw opened the door, her honest Irish face lighted with pleasure at sight of him.
“Why, good avenin’, Mister West,” she cried. “Won’t ye come in?”
“I surely will,” said Allan. “But since when have I been ‘Mister’ West?” he added, laughingly, as he stepped inside.
“Iver since you’ve been chief dispatcher,” answered Mrs. Magraw promptly, leading the way and holding the lamp carefully so that he could see. “Indade, we knows our place, sir, an’ it’s not fer the likes of us t’ be gittin’ too familiar with the chief dispatcher.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Magraw,” laughed Allan. “I’m just the same fellow I always was—I haven’t changed a bit.”
“Not in yer heart, God bless ye. I know that ain’t changed an’ niver will be. Reddy,” she added, opening the door and showing Allan into the room which served as dining-room and sitting-room, “Reddy, here’s Mister West.”
“Mister West?” echoed Reddy, looking up in surprise. “Who d’ye— Oh, how are ye, Allan,” he cried, recognizing the visitor, and springing to his feet with hand outstretched.