But this had come suddenly. It seemed to him at first thought that he needed time to prepare for it. Mr. Fletcher pulled out his watch. “There is a later train at four. Take that, and we will get some lunch first.”
An hour of postponement was such a relief! Why, of course he could go at four. And instantly his heart leaped up with desire.
“All right,” he said, as he rose and closed his desk. “But I think I'd better not stay for lunch. I want to get something for the boy on my way uptown.”
“Very good. Tuesday, then. My best regards to Edith.”
As Jack came down the stairway from the elevated road at Twenty-third Street he ran against a man who was hurrying up—a man in a pronounced traveling-suit, grip-sack and umbrella in hand, and in haste. It was Mavick. Recognition was instantaneous, and it was impossible for either to avoid the meeting if he had desired to do so.
“You in town!” said Mavick.
“And you!” Jack retorted.
“No, not really. I'm just going to catch the steamer. Short leave. We have all been kept by that confounded Chile business.”
“Going for the government?”
“No, not publicly. Of course shall confer with our minister in London. Any news here?”