"Who was the poor old guy?" asked Hickey, "a South American millionaire?"
"Not exactly. I'll tell you the whole story in time. Can't stop now. Did you claim my baggage on the pier?"
Hickey shook his head. Diving into his pocket he produced the crumpled claim checks. "I was afraid you'd catch me if I stopped to claim it."
"Good!" said Greg. "These clothes will come in handy. First of all I'll drive to the pier and get them."
Hickey put on a make-believe aggrieved air. "Hold on. What do I get out of this? The clothes are mine, ain't they? Part payment for the flivver."
"That'll be about all," said Greg grimly. "I didn't contract to buy a hearse, remember."
Hickey hastily changed his tune. "All right. All right. You needn't get sore. You can have your old clothes."
"Just the same I'll deal liberally with you," said Greg. "We'll make the old cab do double duty. When I'm sleeping or busy you can run her, and vice versa. If we keep her in repair she ought to provide a living for both. If you'll turn over your takings to me, I'll settle with Bessie Bickle for your keep and credit you with the balance. When you've paid back the two hundred you got from me I'll retire from the concern in your favor. I pay for repairs, and we go halves on oil and gasoline."
Hickey agreed that this was more than fair.
"All right, climb into Blossom's cab and take a sleep while I'm gone. Or get a room from Bessie. I'll have to have a room to change in when I get back. We have a lot to do to-day."