“Why not take a hack down as far as Thirty-ninth Street?” demanded Parks. “It will be daylight before we get there at this rate.”
“Have you the price?”
“Of course.”
“Then call a cab.”
In a moment the two men, fairly well housed from the storm, were whirling southward.
“Who first got onto this plant?” asked Parks, as they rode along.
“Gilmore.”
“He’s a cute one.”
“You bet he is.”
Nixon did not seem disposed to talk.