“Watching for any one in particular?” he managed, after five minutes or so.
“Yes. I'll tell you about it as soon as—Bill! Is Alex outside?”
Bill stopped in front of them, and nodded.
“All right. Now get this—I want everything decent and in order. No excitement. I'll come out behind him, and you and Bill stand by. Outside I'll speak to him, and when we walk off, just fall in behind. But keep close.”
Bill wandered off, to take up a stand of extreme nonchalance inside the entrance. When Wilkins turned to him again Bassett had had a moment to adjust himself, and more or less to plan his own campaign.
“Somebody's out of luck,” he commented. “And speaking of being out of luck, I've got a sick man on my hands. Friend of mine from home. We've got to catch the midnight, too.”
“Too bad,” Wilkins commented rather absently. Then, perhaps feeling that he had not shown proper interest, “Tell you what I'll do. I've got some business on hand now, but it'll be cleared up one way or another pretty soon. I'll bring my car around and take him to the station. These hacks are the limit to ride in.”
The disaster to his plans thus threatened steadied the reporter, and he managed to keep his face impassive.
“Thanks,” he said. “I'll let you know if he's able to travel. Is this—is this business you're on confidential?”
“Well, it is and it isn't. I've talked some to you, and as you're leaving anyhow—it's the Jud Clark case again.”