Grannis nibbled the end of his pen. "Suppose some one should come and demand that I open the safe and deliver?"
"All you've got to do is to tell them to show the receipt signed by you."
The warehouse manager laughed. "Got a lot of sense in that ivory dome of yours. All right. But if anything happens you've got to come around and back me up. What's it about?"
"That I dare not tell you. This much, I'm laying a trap and I want some one I don't know to fall into it."
"On your way, James. But if you don't send me some prize fight tickets next week for this, I'll never do you another favor."
In reply Norton took from his pocket two bits of pasteboard and laid them on the desk. "I knew you'd be wanting something like this."
"Ringside!" cried Grannis. "You reporters are lucky devils!"
"I'd go myself if there was any earthly chance of a real scrap. You make me laugh, Gran. You're always going, always hoping the next one will be a real one. But it's all bunk. The pugs are the biggest fakers on top of the sod. They've got us newspaper men done to a frazzle."
"I guess you're right. Well, count on me regarding that mysterious bundle in the safe."
"At three o'clock this afternoon I want you to call me up. If no one has called, why the game is up. But if some one does come around and make inquiries, don't fail to let me know."