"Great idea," Wingate assented. "I'll make it three quarters. There really isn't any hurry. Say an hour, if you like. I'll be sitting down inside."
The metamorphosis in Andrew Slate was complete. With his closely trimmed white hair, the dark growth gone from his chin, in a well-cut morning coat and trousers, a grey tie and fashionable collar, his appearance was entirely irreproachable. Wingate nodded his satisfaction as he approached the table.
"Jolly well done, Andrew," he declared. "You certainly do pay for dressing, my boy. Now drink that cocktail up and we'll talk business."
Andrew Slate's altered deportment would have delighted the author of "Sartor Resartus." With his modish and correct clothes, his self-respect seemed to have returned. He carried himself differently, there was a confident ring in his tone. He studied the menu which Wingate passed him, through a well-polished eyeglass, and one could well have believed that he was a distinguished and frequent patron of the place.
"Well, what is it, Wingate?" he asked at last, when the business of ordering luncheon was concluded. "I only hope it's something I can tackle."
"You can tackle it all right," his companion assured him encouragingly. "For a week or ten days you've nothing more to do than a little ordinary detective business. If I decide to carry out a scheme which is forming in my mind, it will be a more serious affair. Time enough for that, though. I should just like to ask you this. Can you find a few bullies of the Tom Grogan class, if necessary?"
"Half a hundred, if you want them," Slate replied confidently. "When I first came over, Wingate, I can tell you I felt all at sea. It seemed to me that the police had got this city in the hollow of their hands, and that there was no chance at all for the man who couldn't rely on the law to do him justice. I soon found out my mistake. There's nothing I could get done in New York or Chicago which I couldn't get done here, and at a great deal less cost and trouble. You thought I was joking when I told you at my office that I could find you a murderer. I wasn't. I could find you half a dozen, if necessary."
"We aren't going quite as far as that," he said. "Have you anything on at all at the present moment?"
"Not a thing."
"I want you altogether free," Wingate went on. "I'm talking business now because it's necessary. You're going to earn money with me, Andrew, and incidentally you are going to help me break the man whom I think that you hate almost as much as I do."