When I broke into the grill-room at the railroad club, I found that Mr. Norcross had beaten me to it by a few minutes; that he had already ordered his dinner at a table with Major Kendrick. I suppose, by good rights, I ought to have gone off into a corner by myself, but I saw that the boss had tipped a chair at the end of the table where I usually sat, so I just went ahead and took it.
Coming in late, that way, I didn't get the first of the talk, but I took it that the boss had been saying something about his rare good luck in having the major for a table-mate two days in succession.
"The honoh is mine, my deah boy," the genial old Kentuckian was telling him as I sat down. "They told me in the despatchuh's office that youh special was expected in, so I telephoned Sheila and the madam not to wait for me."
"Then you stayed down town purposely to see me?" asked the boss.
"In a manneh, yes. I was by way of picking up a bit of information late this afte'noon that I thought ought to be passed on to you without any great delay."
The boss looked up quickly. "What is it, Major?" he inquired. "Are you going to tell me that something new has broken loose?"
"I wish I might be that he'pfully definite—I do so, Graham. But I can't. It's me'uhly a bit of street talk. They're telling it, oveh at the Commercial Club, that Hatch and John Marshall—you know him,—that Sedgwick stock jobbeh who has been so active in this Citizens' Storage & Warehouse business—have finally come togetheh."
"In a business way, you mean?"
The major gave a right and left twist to his big mustaches and shrugged one shoulder.
"They are most probably calling it business," he rejoined.