“Then I starve. It’s a gamble. But it strikes me that I’m giving the odds.”
“Can you amuse yourself for an hour?” asked Marrineal abruptly.
“Why, yes,” answered Banneker hesitantly. “Perhaps you’d turn me loose in your library. I’d find something to put in the time on there.”
“Not very much, I’m afraid,” replied his host apologetically. “I’m of the low-brow species in my reading tastes, or else rather severely practical. You’ll find some advertising data that may interest you, however.”
From the hour—which grew to an hour and a half—spent in the library, Banneker sought to improve his uncertain conception of his prospective employer’s habit and trend of mind. The hope of revelation was not borne out by the reading matter at hand. Most of it proved to be technical.
When he returned to Marrineal’s den, he found Russell Edmonds with the host.
“Well, son, you’ve turned the trick,” was the veteran’s greeting.
“You’ve read ’em?” asked Banneker, and Marrineal was shrewd enough to note the instinctive shading of manner when expert spoke to expert. He was an outsider, being merely the owner. It amused him.
“Yes. They’re dam’ good.”
“Aren’t they dam’ good?” returned Banneker eagerly.