“Saw him?” echoed Jimmy. “I should say I did. I lunched with him over at the Bankers’ Club and I’ve been out for a ride on the boulevard with him in his car. Fixed me up all right and he’s going to stand for everything.”
“What brand of dope is that you use, Martin?” inquired the manager sarcastically. “I’d like to recommend it to some of my friends.”
“Come down off the flying rings, Georgie,” retorted Jimmy. “What are you up in the air about? Didn’t you sic me onto him and didn’t he run to form just as you said he would. How’s this for a reception committee?”
Jimmy reached in his coat pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper.
“Some class to that bird,” he said. “He had the little old stenographer write it out for me. Here’s the names: Jonathan Wilde, president of the Kewanee Packing Company; Judson Davis, secretary and general manager of the Twistwool Knitting Company; Horace Chadwick, president of the Oystermen’s First National Bank; Col. Hannibal Roundtree, president of the Carrolton Country Club; Jefferson Tait, retired gentleman; Henry Quinby Blugsden, Maximilian Hendricks, Marshall....”
“Stop,” shouted Seymour. “You mean to tell me that McDonald gave you that list of names and said he’d stand for it?”
“You can play that three ways, Georgie,” responded Jimmy, shoving the paper under the other’s nose. “There’s the list on his own personal stationery. This is the reception committee that’s going to motor out Sunday morning to bring our flossy frails into your beautiful city. At least my friend McDonald says they are and of course, I’ve got to take his word. So have the papers. I gather he’s some important person.”
“Of course he is,” replied the dazed manager. “Of course he is—one of the biggest citizens in town. And that list—why that list just reeks with distinction. I can’t understand it. That crowd meeting chorus girls? Why the idea is—well, it’s just impossible. That’s the only word!”
“Gosh, if that’s the way you feel about it the darned thing must be going to develop into a bear of a story. Speaking for myself, I never met up with old James K. Impossible. He doesn’t belong to any of my clubs and whenever I think I see him coming I duck up a side street.”
“If you get any paper to stand for that story,” said Seymour, “it’ll stir up the whole town.”