“I certainly haven’t done much so far,” said Manning, with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry—but you don’t know how tedious my rôle’s been to me. To act the part of bait, and just lie around before the noses of the fish you’re after, and not get a bite in two whole weeks—that’s not my idea of exciting fishing.”
“I know. But the plan looked a good one.”
“It looked first-class,” conceded Manning. “And, perhaps——”
“With election only four days off, we’ve simply got to do something!” Katherine repeated. “If nothing else, let’s drop that plan, devise a new one, and stake our hopes on some wild chance.”
“Wait a minute,” said Manning. “I wouldn’t drop that plan just yet. I’ve gone two weeks without a bite, but—I’m not sure—remember I say I’m not sure—but I think that at last I may possibly have a nibble.”
“A nibble you say?” cried Katherine, leaning eagerly forward.
“At least, the cork bobbed under.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Last night? Tell me about it!”