“Mr. Tully, I thank you. I think you are throwing away time and brains in your present position, and if you should ever—”
“Thank you, sir. Don't be afraid. I shall not bother you by—”
“But I mean it,” said E. H. Merriwether.
The reporter smiled and said, “If you knew how often my fortune has been made by men whose story I have not printed you'd be deaf, too.”
“Young man, I sometimes forget favors, but not the possession of brains. I need them in my business.”
“Well, then, suppose you show your appreciation by telling the red-headed person in the outer office that he is to take in my card to you when I call again?”
“Certainly!” And the czar of the great Pacific & Southwestern system nearly slew Doyle by accompanying the reporter to the outer door and saying:
“Doyle, any time Mr. Tully comes to see me let me know instantly, no matter what I may be doing or who is with me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” gasped Doyle, looking terrifiedly at the sorcerer.
Tully! Irish! That was the reason, of course; but he was a wonder, all the same.