"Are you Mr. Early?" he asked.
"No," said Busby, "you——"
"I wanted to see him," said the stranger.
"Fact is," replied the cashier, "he's not here. Can you call again about eleven?"
The stranger smiled, and pulled out a card-case.
"Yes," said Busby, taking the card absently. "I'll make an appointment for you at eleven."
The stranger departed, and Busby carried the piece of cardboard upstairs.
"What's this?" said George, glancing at the card. "Dibbs and Dubbs."
Busby let fall the inkstand he was lifting, and grasped the desk with both hands. The two men stared at each other.
"I've done it," said Busby, feebly, dropping back in a chair; "it's all over." He laughed hysterically and wiped away some moisture from one eye. "It's all over," he repeated in a silly, stupid way.