“Some ale,” said Wampole to the waiter, and it was quickly brought and set before him.
“What’s your order?” asked the waiter of Carl.
“I’ll wait till my friend comes back,” said Carl quietly.
Wampole had not yet seen him, but he heard the youth’s voice and now looked around the edge of the paper.
“Carl Ross,” he murmured, as he fell back in his seat.
“Yes, Mr. Wampole. You didn’t expect to see me here.”
“Well—er—not exactly. But it’s very fortunate, very fortunate, indeed!” went on Nathan Wampole, gathering himself together with an effort.
“Why, do you want to pay me off?”
“Well—er—not exactly that, Carl,” with a reproachful glance. “But the fact of it is, I’m thinking of reorganizing. I’ve seen four of our company already.”
As he spoke Nathan Wampole drew a folded document from his pocket and thrust it across the table.