Salvatore, thus admonished, proceeded in a hurried undertone—with one eye on the headwaiter—to lay bare his soul. What he said was not very coherent, but Archie could make out enough of it to gather that it was a sad story of excessive hours and insufficient pay. He mused awhile. The waiter’s hard case touched him.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said at last. “When jolly old Brewster comes back to town—he’s away just now—I’ll take you along to him and we’ll beard the old boy in his den. I’ll introduce you, and you get that extract from Italian opera off your chest which you’ve just been singing to me, and you’ll find it’ll be all right. He isn’t what you might call one of my greatest admirers, but everybody says he’s a square sort of cove and he’ll see you aren’t snootered. And now, laddie, touching the matter of that steak.”
The waiter disappeared, greatly cheered, and Archie, turning, perceived that his friend Reggie van Tuyl was entering the room. He waved to him to join his table. He liked Reggie, and it also occurred to him that a man of the world like the heir of the van Tuyls, who had been popping about New York for years, might be able to give him some much-needed information on the procedure at an auction sale, a matter on which he himself was profoundly ignorant.
CHAPTER X.
DOING FATHER A BIT OF GOOD
Reggie Van Tuyl approached the table languidly, and sank down into a chair. He was a long youth with a rather subdued and deflated look, as though the burden of the van Tuyl millions was more than his frail strength could support. Most things tired him.
“I say, Reggie, old top,” said Archie, “you’re just the lad I wanted to see. I require the assistance of a blighter of ripe intellect. Tell me, laddie, do you know anything about sales?”
Reggie eyed him sleepily.
“Sales?”
“Auction sales.”
Reggie considered.