“Humph!” He called to one of the reporters. “This looks like a story. I'll run it. Follow that guy in the overalls and see what's in it.”
Cutty appreciated the interlude for what it was worth. Someone was going to follow him. When the gate boy returned to notify him that the advertisement had been accepted, Cutty went down to the street.
“Hey, there; just a moment!” hailed the reporter. “I want a word with you about that advertisement.”
Cutty came to a standstill. “I paid for it, didn't I?”
“Sure. But what's this about the drums of jeopardy?”
“Two great emeralds I'm hunting for,” explained Cutty, recalling the man who stood on London Bridge and peddled sovereigns at two bits each, and no buyer.
“Can it! Can it!” jeered the reporter. “Be a good sport and give us the tip. Strike call among the city engineers?”
“I'm telling you.”
“Like Mike you are!”
“All right. It's the word to tie up the surface lines, like Newark, if you want to know. Now, get t' hell out o' here before I hand you one on the jaw!”