“County advertisin’,” says Zadok. “Things the law requires the county to have published in a newspaper. Like accounts and audits and proceedings and such. Advertise for bids generally, and the paper that bids lowest gets the work. For a year, mostly. And now’s the time.”
“Mostly goes to politicians, don’t it?” says Mark.
“Yes,” says Zadok, “but there’s an opportunity for other folks—for Mark Tidd and his friends. If I was them I’d go to the county-seat, and I’d see the county authorities and I’d argue with ’em. Yes, sir, and I’ll bet I’d get that business. I’d surprise’em. That’s what I’d do.”
“When is the contract g-given out?” says Mark.
“Next week,” says Zadok.
“Then,” says Mark, “you can expect to see Binney and me h-headin’ for the county-seat about the day after to-morrow.”
“Why not to-morrow?” says Zadok. “Opportunities don’t perch long. You got to get ’em before they flit.”
So we told him we had to see Rock to-morrow and why and all about it, and he agreed with us. “Let’s see that cryptogram,” says he. “You know what cryptogram means, eh?”
“Yes,” says Mark, and handed him the writing and told him what we had made out of it. As far as we had gone he agreed with us, but couldn’t go any farther.
“About that Man With the Black Gloves,” says he. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. Comes from the West, does he? I’ll watch. Zadok goes many places and sees many folks. Perhaps I will see him. Now,” says he, “is there a piece of apple pie and a glass of milk and a bed for me?”