"That's the ticket!" said Griffith. "We'll try it on him."
"Then call by the Coville office. I'll phone over for them to have the transfer made and a letter waiting for you," said Mr. Leslie, and he jerked out his watch.
Griffith rose at the signal. He fumbled for a moment with his hat and gloves, and spoke with a queer catch in his voice. "I'd like to—let you know how I—appreciate—"
"No call for it! no call for it!" broke in Mr. Leslie. "Good-day!"
He whirled about to his desk and caught up the receiver of one of his private-line telephones.
CHAPTER XIV
BETWEEN FRIENDS
Lord James sauntered into the office of Griffiths, C.E., and inquired for Mr. Blake. The cleric stared in vague recognition, and answered that Mr. Blake was busy. Nothing daunted, the visitor crossed to the door toward which the clerk had glanced.
When he entered, he found Blake in his shirtsleeves, humped over a small desk. He was intently absorbed in comparing the figures of two field books and in making little pencil diagrams.
"Hello, old man. What's the good word?" sang out his lordship.