"Great term, Anthony!" he agreed genially. "He isn't coming!"
"He'll be here yet," Anthony smiled.
"Not now," Boller chuckled. "No man gives up ten or fifteen dollars for one of these seats and then stays away for any reason save death. Your victim was hit by a motor-truck on the way here—and at that he may be getting off easier than if you'd caught him and tried some psychological experiments on him."
And here Mr. Boller stretched and removed his cigar, so that his grin might spread from ear to ear.
"It only goes to show you, Anthony, that there's some power watching over people like you and governing their affairs, that is past our understanding. Now, if that poor unknown devil had ever turned up and——"
He stopped short.
In Anthony Fry's eye the blue-white fire of enthusiasm glinted out suddenly. Half rising, Mr. Fry gazed down the vast place, and then, with a smile, sat back again and eyed his friend.
"Something's wrong with your power, Johnson," said he. "Here he comes now!"