"No."
I paid for my soda and sipped it leisurely. The place was about half full, and all attention was being paid to "Master Ardon, the Wonderful Boy Dancer," who was doing a clog on the stage.
Mr. Chris Holtzmann was very much the style of a man I had imagined him to be. He was short and stout, with a thick neck and a double chin. He was loudly dressed, including several seal rings and a heavy gold watch chain.
I calculated that he would be a hard man to approach, and now that I was face to face with him I hardly knew how to proceed.
At first I thought to ask him for a situation of some kind and thus get on speaking terms with him, but concluded that openness would pay best in the end, and so, rising, I approached him.
"Mr. Holtzmann, I believe?" I began.
"Yes," he said slowly, looking me over from head to foot.
"If you please I would like to have a talk with you," I went on.
"What is it?" and he turned his ear toward me.
"I have come all the way from Darbyville, New Jersey, to see you."