CHAPTER XXVII A MEETING BETWEEN GENTLEMEN
"Hello, Wheaton," said Margrave cheerfully. "I've had the devil's own time finding you."
He advanced upon Wheaton and shook him warmly by the hand. Then, this having been for the benefit of the watchman, he said, in a low tone:
"Let's go into the directors' room, Jim, I want to see you."
The main bank room was only dimly lighted, but a cluster of electric lights burned brilliantly above the directors' mahogany table, around which were chairs of the Bank of England pattern.
"Have a seat, Mr. Margrave," said Wheaton formally. He had left the door open, but Margrave closed it carefully. Porter's bundle of papers in its manila wrapper lay on the table, and Wheaton sat down close to it.
"What you got there, greenbacks?" asked Margrave. "If you were just leaving for Canada, don't miss the train on my account."
"That isn't funny," said Wheaton, severely.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so damned sensitive," said Margrave, throwing open his overcoat and placing his hat on the table in front of him. "I guess you ain't any better than some of the rest of 'em."