Dalton looked him over. What a lank and shabby youth he was to carry in his voice that ring of authority. "What's the answer to our getting off here?" he asked.
"Depends upon where you are going."
"To Oscar Waterman's——"
"Never heard of him."
"Hamilton Hill," said the station agent.
Randy's neck stiffened. "Then the Hamiltons have sold it?"
"Yes. A Mr. Waterman of New York bought it."
Kemp had come back. "Mr. Waterman says he'll send the car at once. He is delighted to know that you have come, sir."
"How long must I wait?"
"Not more than ten minutes, he said, sir," Kemp's optimism seemed to ricochet against his master's hardness and come back unhurt. "He will send a closed car and will have your rooms ready for you."