The boy started to obey, but in a moment he was back and knocking at Carhart’s door. “He’s down in the office now, Mr. Carhart. He didn’t go at all.”
“He didn’t, eh?” The engineer was standing before the cracked mirror, brushing his hair. “All right, I’ll be down in a minute. Hold on there!” He stepped to the door. The first coin his fingers encountered in his pocket was another half dollar. He took it out without glancing at it and handed it to the now bewildered boy. Then he returned to the mirror and brushed his hair again, and put on his collar and tie. “I’ll have to thank Tiffany,” ran his thoughts. “It’s odd how that car-stealing story has stuck in my head. I’m glad he told it.”
Peet’s expression was not what might be termed complacent. He was standing on the piazza when he heard Carhart’s quick step on the stairs. His teeth were closed tightly on a cigar, but he was not smoking.
“How are you, Mr. Peet?” said the engineer. Peet looked nervously about and behind him, and then faced around. “Look here, Mr. Carhart, I want to tell you that you haven’t got that straight—”
“Where’s Tiffany?” said Carhart.
At this interruption Peet turned, if anything, a shade redder. “He’s gone home.”
“Let’s find him. Would you mind walking over there?”
“Certainly not,” Peet replied; and for a moment they walked in silence. Then the superintendent broke out again. “You didn’t understand about those cars, Mr. Carhart. I know—the boys have told me—that you’ve thought some hard things about me—” He paused: perhaps he had better keep his mouth shut.
As for Carhart, he was striding easily along, the hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “I think I understand the situation pretty well, Peet,” he said. “I was a little stirred up when my men began to go thirsty, but that’s all past, and I’m going to drop it. I guess we both understand that this construction is the most important thing Mr. De Reamer has on hand these days. And if we’re going to carry him through, we’ll have to pull together.”