“Hawkins,” I said hurriedly, “have you followed this matter of the Panama Canal?”
Hawkins stared hard at me for a moment; then I gave him another push, and he toppled into the canal and wallowed about in its waters until the ride was over.
Unhappily, my own place of business is located farther down upon the same street with the Blank Building, where Hawkins has—or had—offices. There was no way of avoiding it—I was forced to walk with him.
But the suppressed enthusiasm in Hawkins didn't come out, and I felt rather more easy. Whatever it was, I fancied that he had left the material part of it at home, and home lay many blocks up-town. I was safe.
“Good-by,” I smiled when we reached his entrance.
“Not much,” Hawkins responded. “Come in.”
“But, my dear fellow——”
“You come,” commanded the inventor. “There's something in here I want you to see.”
He led me in and past the line of elevators.
So we were not going up to his offices! We seemed to be heading for the cigar booth, and for a moment I fancied that Hawkins had discovered a new brand and was going to treat me; but he piloted me farther, to a door, and opened it and we passed through.