“It might be,” Jerry agreed, unimpressed. “The Kobalt is only a stone’s throw away. And this place seems to be frequented by rivermen.”
“You didn’t hear what they were saying?” whispered Penny. “Listen!”
Jerry immediately fell silent, centering his attention upon the two men. But by this time they had lowered their voices so that only an occasional word could be distinguished.
“What were they saying anyway?” Jerry asked curiously.
Before Penny could answer, the proprietor came from the kitchen bearing two plates of food which he set down before them. The sandwiches were covered with a dark brown, watery gravy, potatoes bore a heavy coating of grease and the coffee looked weak.
“Anything more?” the man inquired indifferently.
“That’s all,” Jerry replied, with emphasis. “In fact, it’s too much.”
At the adjoining table the two men abruptly hauled to their feet. Paying their bill they quitted the restaurant.
“Let’s leave, too,” suggested Penny. “I should like to see where they go.”
Jerry pushed his plate aside. “Suits me,” he agreed. “Even my cast-iron stomach can’t wrestle with such food as this.”