The next day, at half-past eight o'clock in the morning, on his way down Broadway, Willis Ford dropped into the Grand Central Hotel, and walked through the reading room in the rear. Here sat Jim Morrison and Tom Calder, waiting for him by appointment.
Ford took a chair beside them.
“Good-morning,” he said, cheerfully.
“Have you brought the money?” asked Morrison, anxiously.
“Hush! don't speak so loud,” said Ford, cautiously. “We don't want everybody to know our business.”
“All right,” said Morrison, in a lower voice; “but have you brought it?”
“Yes.”
“You're a trump!” said Morrison, his face expressing his joy.
“That is to say, I've brought what amounts to the same thing.”
“If it's your note,” said Morrison, with sharp disappointment, “I don't want it.”