"No, it's Ed."
"I wonder what's become of Bill. All right, brother, much obliged. See you again." And he went on.
"Say," he asked the next watchman. "Is Eddy—I mean Captain—Townes upstairs?"
"Sure he is. Go right up."
"Thank you." Up we went to the office. "Captain Townes? Good-morning."
"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" The captain was an Englishman with a voice as heavy and deep as his eyes.
"Why, Captain, I'm sent here by the firm that's putting Peevey's Paris Perfume on the market out in the Middle West. They're going in heavy on ads this Fall and I've got an order to hang around here until I can get a photo of one of your biggest liners. The idea is to run it as an ad, with a caption under it something like this: 'The Kaiser Wilhelm reaching New York with twenty thousand bottles of Peevey's Best, direct from Paris.'"
"The Kaiser Wilhelm," said the captain ponderously, "is a German boat. She docks in Hoboken, my friend."
"Of course she does," said Abner. "And I can lug this heavy camera way over there if you say so, and hand ten thousand dollars worth of free ads to a German line, stick up pictures of their boat in little drugstore windows all up and down the Middle West. Do you know how to tell me to go away?"
Captain Townes smiled heavily.