“What’s his name?”
“Cooley—Ben—Benjamin Cooley.”
“They like him on the Bulletin, don’t they? Didn’t I see something about Ben Cooley and his straight talk?”
“Yes. Oh, he can talk straight enough—and crooked enough as well, if it comes to that. You’ll come to lunch then? We lunch in his chambers.”
Somers agreed. Jack was silent, as if he had not much more to say. After a while he added reflectively:
“Yes, I’m glad to have brought you and Kangaroo together.”
“Why do they call him Kangaroo?”
“Looks like one.”
Again there was a silence, each man thinking his own thoughts.
“You and Kangaroo will catch on like wax, as far as ideas go,” Jack prognosticated. “But he’s an unfeeling beggar, really. And that’s where you won’t cotton on to him. That’s where I come in.”