“You sleep well on your Big Idea,” was his comment.
“No better than you did last night,” retorted Grant, springing out of bed. “Let me see.... yes, I still have it clearly. I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you can stay awake. When do we eat?”
“Now, or as soon as you are presentable. I’ve a notion to give you three days’ C.B. for appearing on parade in your pyjamas.”
“Make it a cash fine, Sergeant, old dear, and pay it out of what you owe me. Now that that is settled order up a decent meal. I’ll be shaved and dressed long before it arrives. You know this is a first-class hotel, where prompt service would not be tolerated.”
As they ate together Grant showed no disposition to discuss what Linder called his Big Idea, nor yet to give any satisfaction in response to his companion’s somewhat pointed references as to his doings of the night before.
“There are times, Linder,” he said, “when my soul craves solitude. You, being a sergeant, and therefore having no soul, will not be able to understand that longing for contemplation—”
“It’s all right,” said Linder. “I don’t want her.”
“Furthermore,” Grant continued, “to-night I mean to resume my soliloquies, and your absence will be much in demand.”
“The supply will be equal to the demand.”
“Good! Here are some morsels of money. If you will buy our railway tickets and settle with the chief extortionist downstairs I will join you at the night train going west.”