“Otherwise Marston and you and a few others might go to Atlanta, eh?”
“It isn't too late to send you there.”
“You are worrying about those papers, are you?”
“Of course I'm worrying about them! What do you suppose I'm down here for?”
“You keep on worrying, Mr. Fogg! Come on into the little corner of hell where I have been for the last few months; the fire is fine!”
He yanked open the door and slammed it behind him, shutting off the promoter's frenzied appeals.
XXX ~ THE MATTER OP A MONOGRAM IN WAX
O come list awhile and you soon shall hear.
By the rolling sea lived a maiden fair.
Her father followed the sum-muggling trade
Like a warlike he-ro,
Like a warlike he-ro that never was aff-er-aid!
—The Female Smuggler.
Captain Mayo carried only doubts and discouragement back to the wreck on Razee. His doubts were mostly concerned with the matter of the documents which Mr. Fogg was seeking so insistently. Mayo himself had done a little seeking. He inquired at the post-office, but there was no mail for him. If no papers had been abstracted from the Marston archives, if this affair were some new attempt at guile on the part of Fogg, the promoter had certainly done a masterly bit of acting, Mayo told himself. He determined to keep his own counsel and wait for developments.