"Ah!" says he. "Rather a clever deduction; eh, Tidman?"
"I shouldn't say so," croaks the other. "Quite obvious, in fact. If it wasn't me it must be you."
"Oh, but you're such a deucedly keen chap," protests Waldo. Then he swings back to me. "From my attorneys?"
"Just came from there," says I.
"Odd," says he. "I don't remember having seen you before."
"That's right," says I. "You see, Mr. Pettigrew, I'm really representin' the Corrugated Trust and—"
"Don't know it at all," breaks in Waldo.
"That's why I'm here," says I. "Now, here's our proposition."
And say, before he can get his breath or duck under the table, I've spread out the blue-prints and am shootin' the prospectus stuff into him at the rate of two hundred words to the minute.
Yes, I must admit I was feedin' him a classy spiel, and I was just throwin' the gears into high-high for a straightaway spurt when all of a sudden I gets the hunch I ain't makin' half the hit I hoped I was. It's no false alarm, either. T. Waldo's gaze is gettin' sterner every minute, and he seems to be stiffenin' from the neck down.