Toomey’s relief that he had not inadvertently given offense was so great that he almost told the truth as to the exact amount. Just in time he restrained himself and replied with elaborate indifference:
“I’d get something out of it for my time and work, of course, but, mostly, I’m anxious to see a friend get hold of a good thing.”
This fine spirit of disinterested solicitude met with no response.
“I presume it’s equally true, Mr. Toomey, that the completion of the project means considerable to the town?”
“Considerable!” with explosive vehemence. “It’s got where it’s a case of life or death. The coyotes’ll be denning in the Security State Bank and the birds building nests in the Opera House in a year or two, if something don’t turn up.”
“How soon can you furnish me with the data you may have on hand?”
“About six minutes and four seconds, if I run,” Toomey replied in humorous earnestness.
Prentiss’s face did not relax.
“Get it and bring it to my room—at once.” His voice was cold and businesslike, strongly reminiscent now of Kate’s.