"A guy with a great little scheme," says I, winkin'. "If you can spare ten minutes he'll tell you something worth while, so he says."
"Very well," says Mr. Robert. "But ten minutes must be the limit."
Say, it was rich, too, watchin' Mr. Robert's face as he listens to this weird tale of pirates and buried gold. First off he was tryin' to be polite, and only smiled sarcastic; but when Rupert gets to spreadin' on the romance, Mr. Robert starts drummin' his fingers on the desk and glancin' at his watch.
Right in the midst of the recital, too, Old Hickory drifts out of his private office, and stands waitin' with his ear cocked. He has a report or something he wants to ask a question about, and I was lookin' every minute to see him crash right in. But Rupert is in high gear, and goin' stronger all the while; so Mr. Ellins just stands there and listens. The Cap. had got to the part where he describes this mysterious island with the mound in the middle, when Mr. Robert shrugs his shoulders impatient.
"My good fellow," says he, "whatever gave you the notion I would be interested in such rubbish? Sorry, but your time is up. Torchy, will you show Mr.—er—what's-his-name to the elevator?"
Which I did as comfortin' as I knew how. Course, he's feelin' some hurt at bein' choked off so abrupt, but he takes it calm enough.
"Oh, well," says he, "perhaps I can find someone else who will appreciate that this is the opportunity of a lifetime."
"Sure you can," says I. "Broadway's just lined with willin' ears."
I'd loaded him into an elevator and was strollin' through the waitin'-room, when Old Hickory comes paddin' out as slinky as a man of his weight can.
"Young man," says he, "where is that Captain person?"