"Now, then," he goes on, "what was it Mr. Robert thought?"
"That you might give me a line on how things stood with you," says I, "so he'd know just what to do."
"Eh?" growls Ham. "Tell you! Why, who the devil are you?"
"Nobody much," says I. "Maybe you ain't noticed me in the office, but I'm there. Private sec. to the president of Mutual Funding. My desk is beyond Mr. Robert's, in the corner."
"Oh, yes," says Adams; "I remember you now. And I suppose I may as well tell you as anyone. For the fact is, I'm about at the end of my string. I must get some money somewhere."
"Ye-e-es?" says I, sort of cagey.
"Did Bob send any by you? Did he?" suddenly asks Adams.
"Some," says I.
"How much?" he demands.
"A hundred," says I.