Tembarom looked down at the carpet, thinking the thing over. Ann went on sewing.
“That's the way with you,” he said presently: “you put things into a fellow's head. You've given me a regular boost, Little Ann.”
It is not unlikely that but for the sensible conviction in her voice he would have felt less bold when, two weeks later, Biker, having gone upon a “bust” too prolonged, was dismissed with-out benefit of clergy, and Galton desperately turned to Tembarom with anxious question in his eye.
“Do you think you could take this job?” he said.
Tembarom's heart, as he believed at the time, jumped into his throat.
“What do you think, Mr. Galton?” he asked.
“It isn't a thing to think about,” was Galton's answer. “It's a thing I must be sure of.”
“Well,” said Tembarom, “if you give it to me, I'll put up a mighty hard fight before I fall down.”
Galton considered him, scrutinizing keenly his tough, long-built body, his sharp, eager, boyish face, and especially his companionable grin.
“We'll let it go at that,” he decided. “You'll make friends up in Harlem, and you won't find it hard to pick up news. We can at least try it.”