He came in, greeting everyone at once with a manner which made each one feel that the pleasant word was especially his. It was characteristic that he noticed Doctor Sims sitting alone, and took a place at his table.
The doctor responded to David’s pleasant good-morning with a growl which was almost cheerful. Doctor Trigg and the star reporter, a keen-looking, gray-haired man, soon joined them. Doctor Sims closed his book with a baffled air. He never got enough time for research work, and he laid most of his interruptions to Doctor Trigg. Drat the man; he was always close by, ready to chat. Chat—who wanted to chat? What if they had been classmates in the long ago, and co-educators ever since? Why, by all the test tubes in the world, should a man as learned and profound as was Doctor Trigg in his chosen sphere, why should he want to chat?
Doctor Sims did not wait. He leaped upon his quarry.
“Yar-r-r-r-r-r,” he quoth forcibly. “Yar-r-r, Martin! What is your latest discovery this morning? More enthusiasm? More youthful prodigies, or more astonishing propensities? Let’s hear ’em, and get it over with.”
“Why, no, Sims, I can’t say that I have anything profound or of specific value to offer for your consideration today.”
“How did you like Friedrichshafen, Doctor Sims?” asked the star reporter. He was a friendly man.
“Wonderful, wonderful!” said Doctor Sims. “I ransacked the city and miles of its environs. I found rich returns for my labor.”
“He’s a collector,” explained Doctor Trigg to the reporter.
“Epitaphs,” added Doctor Sims proudly.
“Ep—” said the reporter, and stopped.