“Oh, yes; yes, indeed. Thank you very much. It's quite a weight off my mind, really it is.”
Cabot could not help laughing. Then a thought struck him.
“Did you bring back the check I sent you?” he asked. Galusha looked somewhat confused.
“Why, why, no, I didn't,” he admitted. “I had intended to, but you see—Dear me, dear me, I hope you will feel that I did right. You see, our paleontological department had been hoping to fit out an expedition to the Wyoming fossil fields, but it was lamentably short of funds, appropriations—ah—and so on. Hambridge and I were talking of the matter. A very adequate man indeed, Hambridge. Possibly you've read some of his writings. He wrote Lesser Reptilian Life in the Jurassio. Are you acquainted with that?”
Cousin Gussie shook his head. “Never have been introduced,” he observed, with a chuckle. Galusha noted the chuckle and smiled.
“I imagine not,” he observed. “I fear it isn't what is called a—ah—best seller. Well—ah—Dear me, where was I? Oh, yes! Hambridge, poor fellow, was very much upset at the prospect of abandoning his expedition and I, knowing from experience what such a disappointment means, sympathized with him. Your check was at that moment lying on my desk. So—so—It was rather on the spur of the moment, I confess—I—”
The banker interrupted.
“Are you trying to tell me,” he demanded, “that you handed that check over to that other—that other—”
He seemed rather at a loss for the word.
Galusha nodded.