And say, Mallory was Johnny on the spot. He grabs Kazedky's flipper like it was a life preserver.
"I—I—really, gentlemen, there's some mistake," says the Baron. "A quarter what, did you say?"
"Oh," says Mallory, "that's some of Mr. Buck's tomfoolery—football term, you know."
"But I am not interested in football," says the Baron, tryin' to back towards the door, "not in the least."
"Me either," says Mallory, gettin' a new grip on him. "What I want to talk to you about is steel. Now, I represent the Corrugated Trust, and we——"
Well say, the old man himself couldn't have reeled it off better'n Mallory. Why, he had it as letter perfect as a panhandler does his tale about bein' in the hospital six weeks and havin' four hungry kids at home. I only hears the start of it; for as soon as he got well under way Mallory starts for the other end of the corridor, skatin' the little old Baron along with him like he was a Third-ave. clothing store dummy that was bein' hauled in at closin'-up time.
Whitey didn't even wait for the overture. The minute he hands Kazedky over he fades towards the elevator. There's nothin' for me to do but wait; so I picks out a red velvet chair and camps down on it to watch the promenade. That's what it was, too; for Mallory acts like he'd forgot everything he ever knew except that he's got to talk steel into the Baron. I guess it was steel he was talkin'! Every time he passes me I hear him ringin' in Corrugated, and drop forged, and a lot of things like that.
Mallory has a right-arm hook on Kazedky and is makin' motions with his left hand. Bein' so tall, he has to lean over to pump his speech into the old fellow's ear; but every now and then he gets excited and, 'stead of bendin' himself, he lifts the Baron clear off his feet.
About the third lap some of the gents from the private dinin'-room pokes their heads out to see what's happened to the guest of the evenin'. They saw, all right! They must have been suspicious, too; for they were lookin' anxious, and begun signaling him to break away.
The Baron didn't have no time for watchin' signals just then. He was busy tryin' to keep his feet on the floor. First I knew there was a whole gang at the door watchin' 'em, and they was talkin' over makin' a rush for the Baron and rescuin' him, I guess, when Mallory leans him up against the wall, hauls out a pad and a fountain pen, and hands the things to Kazedky. The Baron drapes bis napkin over one arm, stuffs the piece of roll into his mouth, and scribbles off somethin'.