Raven had spread himself. The suite at the St. Louis was costing him plenty, but it did him a lot of good. It had increased his own confidence.
He lay on the floor in a red silk dressing−gown. All around him was a complicated network of railway lines. Miniature stations, signals, buffers, engine−sheds and the like surrounded him. Trains, dragging long lines of carriages, flashed over points and rattled over the gleaming metal track. They disappeared beneath furniture, only to reappear again, running in an endless circle.
He lay there, his hands on a master switch, controlling the current that sent the trains forward. A limp cigarette hung from his thin lips, and his eyes were cloudy and intent on the fast−moving little trains.
“What is it?” he said suddenly. “One of these days you’re goin’ to collect a handful of slugs if yon sneak up on me like this.”
Little Joe grinned nervously. “Sure, boss,” he said.
Reluctantly Raven closed the switch, bringing the trains to a standstill. He rolled over a little on his side so that he could look at Joe. “Nice outfit, ain’t it?” he said with a proud smile.
“Yeah.” Joe wasn’t very interested. “It’s all right.”
Raven turned back again and set the trains in motion. “Well, what is it?”
“A floosie on 7th Street was peddling. I gave her a little tonic.”
Raven grunted. “You gotta watch those dames,” he said. “Another month an’ we’ll have it where we want it.”