“What are his movements?”
“The four of us are lunching at Martin’s at one o’clock. After we’ve eaten, I’ll steer them into the café. Anybody could drop into the café.”
“But the three of you being there, he’d smell a rat for certain,” said Joe smiling.
“You could cover your tracks; you’re clever at that. . . . You must see him before he goes out of town!”
“Well, look here,” said Joe. “I’ll drop into Martin’s with some other fellows, see? It will be up to you to make Cooper Gillett invite me to your table.”
“Sure!” said Dodge, vastly relieved.
“And here’s a piece of advice for you,” Joe went on. “Don’t give him an indigestion of the subject during lunch. On the other hand, you mustn’t enter into a conspiracy of silence either, or that will make him suspicious. If the subject comes up, speak your minds on it, and let it drop again. Never nag a millionaire. That’s my motto.”
Joe came into Martin’s by the Broadway entrance, at the heels of the two friends he had picked up for the occasion. On Saturday afternoons everybody who was anybody in New York desired to show themselves at Martin’s, and the café was crowded. Joe was aware, as he passed down the room, that many heads were turned to follow him. He knew that they were beginning to call him “the Boy Wonder of the Street” and his heart exulted. Already he had succeeded in getting his head well above the ruck of the town.
He and his friends sat themselves down at a table against the back wall. The friends had their instructions. The three put their heads close together as if they had serious business to discuss, or some delightful plot to lay. Joe seemed not to see Cooper Gillett and his party who were seated at a larger table in the center of the room. In addition to Dodge, Gillett had with him Judge Keep, one of his attorneys; and Eddie Shriver, a young relative of his wife’s.