“Plegg, you are too good an engineer to be anybody’s assistant,” he said, one evening after they had finished a round of the night-shift activities and had returned to the cramped quarters of the small bunk car which they shared together. “Why didn’t Mr. Grillage give you this job after Lushing quit?”
Plegg’s smile was grim.
“If I were really as cynical as you think I am, I might hint that possibly Mr. Grillage had a young man in his eye whom he wished to give a shove up the ladder. But I’ll stand it upon another leg. Mr. Eben Grillage is an excellent judge of men; and he knows me of old.”
David shook his head.
“That ought to be your very best recommendation. What have you ever done to make him pass you up in the promotion scheme?”
“It was something that my ancestors did—if you believe in heredity. They gave me the qualities of a good follower and neglected to include the saving moiety of leadership—that’s all. But speaking of Mr. Grillage; did you know he is on his way out here?”
David had not known it and he said so. “How did you hear?” he asked.
“Such news always travels ahead of a man of Mr. Grillage’s importance in the scheme of things. I heard it from one of the clerks at the Alta Vista Inn. The big boss has wired ahead for a double suite.”
The double suite could mean only one thing, and David’s pulses quickened after the most approved fashion of pulses in such case made and provided.
“He is bringing Miss Virginia with him?” he queried.